We're Alive Alive
by define-serenity
Summary: [Imogene AU] After a tough break-up Blaine decides to stay with his brother for a while, only to find out the spare room has been rented out to a certain Sebastian Smythe. SERIES. COMPLETE.
1. Past

**characters/pairings (all):** implied Blaine/Eli, implied Nick/Sebastian, endgame Sebastian/Blaine, Adam, Rachel, Jesse, Cooper, Hunter, Marley, Puck, Kitty, Santana, Tina, Sam, Sugar, Terri

**author's notes:** a Seblaine _Imogene_ AU, which was only a matter of time to be honest. i haven't actually seen the movie, i just interpreted whatever the trailer gave us, so spoilers only for that trailer. title taken from _Aviation High_ by Semi Precious Weapons, which you should give a listen during chapter 3. my endless love goes out to **xsaturated** for beta-reading and brainstorming :)

**warnings (all):** blangst, sexual situations, explicit language

* * *

**WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE**

**part one**

* * *

"I think I should move out."

The six words held no meaning.

"What?" he asked, looking over at Eli in the driver's seat.

"I'm moving out," Eli said, an active construction this time, his hand tightening around the wheel and eyes avoiding him.

His heart rate spiked, blood rushing to his ears, the words finding their proper meaning one by one, combining into something he didn't want to hear. "What are you saying?" he asked, voice shaking, palms clammy, his heart clenching in his chest.

Eli sighed. "You know what I'm saying, Blaine," he said, stopping the car for a red light. Eli looked at him, his face serious, eyes determined. "Things haven't been okay for a while."

He cast down his eyes. The degree of separation between them had increased, nights spent alone on the couch because Eli was working a night shift at the hospital or because he was on call, his hours as resident even worse than the hours he studied to get his medical degree, the nights that they did spent in bed together were spent sleeping instead of making love, silence at the breakfast table. But they'd always known Eli's job would take its toll on their relationship.

"I know–we haven't found much time for each other these past few weeks–"

"Months," Eli corrected.

"But we can work on that," he said, a half turn in his seat so he could face Eli. They needed to make time for each other, that's all, set some time aside to talk about things, maybe they could get away somewhere. "That's what couples do, they–"

Eli shook his head. "Blaine, I'm trying–"

"_What_?" he insisted, because there was something Eli wasn't saying, he knew him well enough to see that, four years had ensured he read Eli like no one else, the exasperated sigh meaning impatience, the shake of his head disappointment or defeat, his eyes averted in fear or shame.

"I–" Eli sighed again, a car honked behind them and they were driving again. Which meant Eli wasn't looking at him anymore. "I'm trying to let you down easy."

Tears sprang to his eyes.

"Easy?" he choked out as Eli parked the car in the usual spot.

Where was this coming from? They had fun tonight, Eli had always talked about his colleagues, but it had been his first time meeting them. He heard stories about their first rotation, incidents he didn't necessarily understand the ins and outs of, but Eli had smiled and blushed and it was the most fun they'd had in ages. He'd wanted to kiss Eli right there, hold his hand, but he knew his boyfriend didn't like that, not in front of the other residents.

Nothing had indicated that their night would end like this. Up until a few moments ago he'd been excited at the prospect of having Eli to himself tonight, he'd missed his kisses and soft touches, the sweet things Eli liked to whisper in his ear while they made love–

"E, what are you– What are you saying?"

Eli unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at him, eyes devoid of any sentiment he recognized. Whatever was coming next, he wasn't going to like it. "I don't want to be with you anymore."

He fell speechless.

"I think we should go our separate ways," Eli added.

"No," he whined, tears in his eyes.

"B–"

He fumbled with his seatbelt fast, struggling to unhook it and reached for Eli's face. "Baby, I love you," he said, but Eli grabbed his wrists and pulled down his hands. "We can work this out, just talk to me," he pleaded, a shamefully small part of him upset that he was lowering himself to begging his boyfriend to stay.

"I just did," Eli said, cradling his hands between his. "I care about you, Blaine, and we've been good for each other, but–" He looked down, shook his head. "I don't love you anymore."

The words impacted like a bomb, an earth-shattering explosion and a following pressure wave, throwing his entire world off-kilter. "I can't believe this." He cried. "I don't understand where this is coming from."

It felt too sudden, too out-of-nowhere to be serious, maybe the pressure of his job was getting to Eli, maybe his fellow students' silent judgment of their relationship was getting to be too much, but they loved each other. Other people shouldn't matter.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," Eli said. "This isn't–easy for me. But we can't keep holding on to something empty, B. It's not healthy."

He pulled his hands free from Eli's grip, sagged down in his seat. He never saw this coming, perhaps he'd read Eli's silences as stress by mistake, his lack of kisses following suit in a heart that no longer cared and then their sex life disappeared–that all just _happened_. Was that the emptiness Eli talked about? He'd never felt it, not until now, not until Eli decided to point it out. But this could be fixed. They could try harder.

"I'm going to stay at a hotel tonight."

He closed his eyes, trying to remain stable while the next shockwave overtook him, and he held back tears. He had to be calm about this; if he could get Eli upstairs maybe he could get him to talk, maybe he could give him what they'd been missing–sex wasn't the most important part of their relationship, but if he made Eli feel good again, take away some of the insecurity–

"You'll need some clothes," he said, attempted to control the quiver in his voice, hoping Eli didn't decipher what he was trying to do. He knew Eli's body, he knew what to do to make him feel good, to show him what they'd be giving up.

Eli swallowed hard. "I have a bag in the trunk," he said. "I packed it three days ago."

.

.

He staggered into the elevator with shaky legs, leaving Eli behind, _left behind_ rather and Eli hadn't spared him a second glance as he drove off. To his hotel, to an unknown bed.

The clang of his keys sounded too loud in the hallway, everything enhanced somehow, sound and smell, vision sharp yet blurry around the edges, but those were the tears in his eyes. He closed the door behind him carefully, not making a sound, but it put the silence inside the flat in stark contrast with Eli's words still spinning circles in his head.

The flat felt empty, cold, only his love to heat it up, Eli's somewhere downtown in an equally empty room. But Eli chose the solitude, Eli had chosen to leave him and he realized that mentally Eli probably left weeks ago. It'd been cruel of him to hang on, stay with him when all this time–_ how long exactly?_ – Eli had been working up the courage to tell him. Maybe Eli hadn't wanted to leave, maybe he'd tried to make it work and he'd been too blind to see.

He put his keys down on the dresser, toed off his shoes, his legs weak, his entire body jittery.

He looked back at the door, checking behind him for something missing now. Maybe Eli would still come, maybe he'd realize his mistake tonight or tomorrow when he woke up in a strange bed without him sleeping beside him.

It happened too fast, felt too sudden, like Eli was running for the hills and had to make sure to dump him before he left.

What was Eli running from? What had he done to chase him away?

Everything felt wrong inside the flat, hollow, and that was too soon, Eli's clothes still lay in a heap on the bed, tossed aside a few hours ago before he'd hopped into the shower and dressed in something more casual–Eli had looked so handsome, relaxed, and he'd helped him get the lint of his shirt while Eli teased him about being OCD.

They'd laughed together not five hours ago, where had it gone wrong?

Why was Eli giving up on them?

Maybe he–

What if–

He clasped a hand over his mouth, high-tailed it for the bathroom and threw up the risotto he had earlier, his throat burning with acid, his jaws straining. _What if there was someone else?_ What if Eli met someone better? He should have asked in the car, should have made Eli explain why he was leaving, what had gone wrong, what gave him the right to break his heart. Because now Eli was gone, and the small voice inside whispered he wouldn't be coming back.

He never thought his heart could actually feel like it was breaking, zigzagged in half, even though he knew it was his head catching up, but his chest hurt, his stomach felt heavy and all he wanted was for Eli to hug his arms around him and hold everything together. But what if Eli was holding someone else now?

He scrambled for his phone, dialled Eli's number, uncertain whether his voice would even allow him to ask right now. But he needed to know, he needed to know if someone else had caught Eli's eye.

"Blaine, you shouldn't call me," were the first words out of Eli's mouth.

"Is there someone else?" he spit, hoisting himself up against the bathtub. A positive answer would only be added torture, something he'd rather not know, but he needed a reason better than _I don't love you anymore_.

"What?" Eli asked.

"Have you _met someone_?" he enunciated more clearly, while tears ran down his face.

Eli sighed and he could see, how Eli drew a hand over his face first, then buried it in his hair, fingers massaging at his scalp while he tried to formulate a satisfying answer. "No, baby, there's no one else."

The pet name struck hard at his heart. Eli still cared.

He sniffled, tried to control his breathing. "Then why?"

"I'm not explaining this again, Blaine," Eli said. "It's over."

He closed a hand over his eyes, pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. It couldn't be over, not like this, not without trying.

"We drifted apart the way that people do sometimes," Eli added, his voice sad despite the separation he surprised him with. "It wasn't my fault and it wasn't yours."

Only it had to be someone's fault, didn't it? People didn't just drift apart, didn't just decide to give up on four years together because things had cooled down. No, one of them had given up, one of them had decided to stop working at what they had. And he couldn't figure out which one of them it had been.

"Get some sleep," Eli said. "We'll talk about my stuff later."

He dropped his hand to his lap. "I love you," he said softly, but it already felt like he was talking to a ghost that was fading into the ether.

Eli inhaled deeply. "Goodnight, Blaine."

"Baby, please, I–" he begged, but the line went dead before he could tell Eli, beg him to talk, beg him to stay, beg him to come back, he'd do anything at this point. He drew in a breath, throat choking off his air and he released a pathetic whimper that echoed through the bathroom, choked breaths now mixing with his sobs.

The flat was empty, no love, no warmth. No Eli.

Eli was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

.

.

His phone woke him after only half an hour of sleep. He'd cried all night, curled up in a fetal position on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a tight blanket of denial and memories of happier times. He'd tried calling Eli again, but his phone kept jumping to voicemail. He wanted to talk some sense into his boyfriend, needed Eli to realize it was a mistake to walk away, they'd shared something real that most people only dreamed of and there was no reason they couldn't get that back.

But his phone calls remained unanswered.

His eyes felt puffy and his throat hurt, his nose red, tissues covering the floor all around him.

"Blaine, it's mom," his mother's voice sounded and he wished he'd checked his caller ID first. But answering the phone seemed so simple and uncomplicated in a world that made a little less sense today, it was something he didn't need to think about.

"I just heard," his mother said.

He frowned; how could she possibly know already? The only other person who knew was Eli, and–_Eli called his mother_? That had to mean part of him still cared. Why else would Eli make sure his mother knew he was going through a tough time? Maybe there was hope.

"Mom, I'm fine," he blurted out, sitting up while his head throbbed painfully. He wasn't fine, not in the least, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and anything could set him off again, but he didn't want to worry his mother. She had a knack for meddling in his life when he didn't need it.

"You don't sound fine."

"That's because I've been crying." He rubbed at his eyes wearily, exhaustion sunk into his bones, weighed down by hurt. "He le–" He took a deep breath. "He left, mom, what did you expect?"

"Honey, let me come over and make you something," his mother begged, the hesitation in his voice undoing her.

"No, mom, I'm–" he started, but_ fine_ seemed like the wrong word to use again. He didn't need anyone around but Eli, he wanted Eli's arms around him telling him it was all a mistake, that he'd run scared for stupid reasons but he could forgive that.

He needed Eli back. But that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

"I really need to be alone right now," he lied, and it took him another half hour to convince his mother that he could take care of himself, that there were friends he could call before she had to come over by train to make him soup or tea or something else she found comforted her.

He knew very well there was nothing that could soothe his hurt. Only someone.

But that someone was gone.

.

.

There was a decisive knock on the door around noon the next day; the only thing he'd done was move to the couch with his box of tissues, phone fully charged on the coffee table in case Eli called, flipping through channels on the television without ever settling on anything in particular. His head wasn't in it, but off somewhere looking for what had gone missing from his life.

Silences at breakfast were preferable over this.

But then there was that knock and he all but sprinted for the door, immediately thinking it would be Eli.

"Hello, love," a face said to him, followed by a sad smile, and it took him a long time to place either.

"Adam," he said, hoping his disappointment didn't sound too obvious. "What are you doing here?"

"Eli sent me," Adam answered, and when he looked at Adam again he could tell that Eli had told him what happened. Adam was one of Eli's closest friends, the two of them had met their first year at college and had stuck together, so it shouldn't surprise him that Adam already knew.

"He wanted to come himself, but–" Adam sighed, managing a half-hearted laugh, residual hurt from his own breakup a few months ago shining through in his eyes. "Only that's bullshit, isn't it?" he amended, and it was, _bullshit_, Eli didn't want to see him, maybe because he didn't want to run the risk of keeping their empty relationship going. He wished he didn't already sound so bitter.

He and Eli were there for Adam through a very ugly breakup, his ex had been cheating on him for months before confessing and Adam had been a complete mess. He wondered if he looked the same now, a shadow of himself without Eli.

"I thought you could use a friendly face," Adam said.

"How is he?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him. He wasn't sure what he wanted Adam to say, whether he wanted Eli as miserable as he was or if he wanted proof that Eli left him because what they had truly had turned empty.

"Dealing." Adam shrugged. "Working. You know how he gets."

He nodded numbly. He'd taken time off work because he needed to deal with things in his own time, and his boss owed him more vacation days than she cared to admit. But he knew it wasn't that simple for Eli, not as a first-year resident.

"He–asked me to pick up some of his things," Adam said tentatively, reaching for something that had been standing against the wall up until now: three folded cardboard boxes.

Something inside him snapped.

_We'll talk about my stuff later_, Eli had said, but they hadn't talked, he hadn't heard from Eli for two days straight and now–

Eli was leaving. Eli was actually leaving him.

Tears assaulted his eyes and he stumbled backwards into the flat, arms finding support once he hit the couch, but he stood shaking, the defeat he felt overwhelming. Eli was giving up on four years, four good years, four wonderful years, four years they'd spent together happy. They had their occasional spat, but they never raised their voices to each other, they weren't those people, they dealt with things, they talked to each other.

He couldn't just let them..._ die_.

"I'm so sorry." He felt Adam's hand on his shoulder squeezing hard, the solid touch bringing him back. "I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. But Eli thought it best I–"

He nodded, running a hand over his face, desperately trying to hold the pieces of himself together. He hadn't thought about it until now, how Adam was Eli's friend first and Adam was doing everything he could to show he hadn't chosen sides. Only he would, eventually, given enough time all their friends would choose sides.

"Take what you need," he choked out, but didn't follow Adam into the bedroom.

He stood there, clutching the back of the couch, while Adam packed Eli's belongings, his shirts and pants and sweaters, his underwear and his socks, his tooth brush, some of the CDs Eli swore he couldn't live without. One by one, item by item, Eli left a little, not the memories, but the objects, and it was disconcerting how much it affected him. It made everything real, permanent, Eli gone. Eli disappeared.

He remembered when they first moved in how pathetically empty it had all looked, the walls white, the rooms still lacking furniture here and there. Eli had stood with his arms wrapped around him from behind, said that they'd fill it up soon enough, that soon they wouldn't have any room at all and would have to throw things out. Because they'd be together for a long, long time.

"Blaine, love, will you be alright?" Adam asked, returning upstairs for the last box.

He swallowed hard. "I feel like I'm dying," he confessed.

Adam walked over and pulled him into a hug, and for one split second with Adam's strong arms around him, he felt like somehow, somewhere, at some point, things were going to be okay. But the feeling didn't last.

"I'm sorry," Adam said as he pulled back, hands still on his shoulders. "He should've–"

"Tell him–" he interrupted; he didn't want Adam to choose sides, but he didn't want him to feel the need to condemn Eli for what he did either. "Could you tell him I love him?"

Adam squeezed his shoulder. "Of course," he said, gave him a supportive smile and turned towards the door. "Call me if there's anything you need, okay?" Adam threw over his shoulder, his accent somehow always managing something soothing. "Anything at all. 24/7."

He closed the door and he was alone again, the apartment even emptier.

Eli was gone and the only thing left of him were his dirty clothes on the bed, purposeless now because he doubted Eli would be back for one outfit. He grabbed them off the bed, strutted into the bathroom and poured them into the hamper, hesitating when a whiff of Eli's cologne caught him off guard.

Eli's smell hit him so hard his head spun, a sudden presence there in the room with him that only underlined the absence. Why did this have to happen?

He unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, reaching for Eli's blue shirt, rife with his scent, cologne and sweat but he didn't care, it was Eli through and through. He put on the shirt, cool against his skin and buttoned it up carefully. The sleeves fell over his wrists but he bunched the fabric together and brought it to his face, breathing in deeply.

Eli was everywhere.

.

.

_Blaine, it's mom again, please pick up the phone?_

.

.

_Bling, are you up for lunch this week?_

.

.

_Bro, pick up your damn phone, we're all worried about you._

.

.

The day someone checked on him at the apartment he knew exactly who it would be, a knock at the door just before noon – despite his days blurring he was still capable of reading the clock – but he didn't answer, didn't move, didn't say anything. He'd been on the couch for days, restless dreams plaguing him when he managed to fall asleep, a box of cereal and a bottle of water on the floor. He only ever got up to go to the bathroom, listened to his voicemails but didn't bother answering them, watched TV without seeing.

He hated himself for being this, a pathetic heap of boy on the couch pining after his boyfriend without taking action, but pining was simple too, nursing the pain in his chest, Eli's scent all around him.

"Blaine, it's us," Jesse's voice called. "Open the door."

He counted the seconds that went by. _One_,_ two_,_ three_...

"Blaine!" Rachel called.

Silence.

"Blaine, I swear to God I will break down this door," Jesse insisted, his voice lacking any sort of threat.

Rachel giggled. "Honey, you can't break down a door."

"No one's talked to him in four days," he heard Jesse argue. "What if he hurt himself?"

"He wouldn't do that," Rachel said, before the hallway went dead silent. Rachel mumbled something before Jesse muttered back, exchanged another few words, and then Rachel was assaulting his door with her fist.

"Blaine, open this door!" Rachel shouted. "Jesse will break it down!"

"I'm fine!" he shouted, his voice breaking from disuse. He scrambled up from the couch and walked towards the door with no intention of letting Rachel or Jesse in. The room spun around him.

He reached for the dark wood, putting his palms flat against the surface. "I'm alive. I'm eating. I want to be alone."

"Blaine, sweetie, we're worried about you," Rachel pleaded, her voice touching something inside him that did crave companionship, that needed someone around. But everything in his body needed that someone to be Eli.

"Don't–" he started, tears overtaking him again. "Please, don't worry," he said. "I just need to be on my own."

Jesse sighed, louder than was necessary, but he made no further comment. "What about the–" Jesse asked Rachel, and he assumed Jesse pointed at something.

"Leave it here," Rachel answered, followed by the dull thud of the unmentioned object on the floor. "Blaine, we made you a care package," Rachel said, her voice so close it was like she stood in the room with him. He did appreciate this, as much as the phone calls and the texts. But he wasn't up to showing everyone how much pain he was in.

"Blaine?" Rachel's voice softened. "We love you."

He put his forehead against the door, closed his eyes, basking in the simple 'I love you' of a friend; he soaked it up, tried to make it mean something now that he'd been feeling loveless for a while. But he couldn't will himself to say it back.

He listened to Rachel and Jesse as they retreated down the hallway, talking to each other, and watched them disappear out of sight through the peephole. He opened the door and grabbed his care package, before carefully closing and locking the door behind him. The package was a small basket containing shaving cream, aftershave, his favorite hair gel and some new razors. He rubbed at his chin, a full beard covering his face now; he didn't feel much like shaving but he appreciated the sentiment.

He grabbed the package, but got distracted, carelessly knocking a picture off the dresser. His heart jumped, the package tumbled to the ground alongside the picture, the glass shattering as it hit the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrounged for the pieces of the picture frame, but it was no use: the picture was ruined, glass broken and a huge tear across both his and Eli's faces. It was symbolic almost, him and Eli erased as a couple, broken, torn apart.

But that was Eli's fault. He didn't have to stand for this, he didn't have to stand by and take this, they were both in this relationship and he should get a say too. What didn't he do for Eli? He quit school and started working to help pay for his tuition; he moved across the city, away from most of his friends because Eli knew very early on which placement he'd get; he put his own dreams on hold to help Eli achieve his. And why? All because he loved Eli so much.

He wasn't without his faults, he knew that all too well, he got attached to people in a very affected and intense way, he didn't always know how to talk about his feelings until everything threatened to slip away, he could get a little eccentric at times, but surely his good qualities made up for his less attractive ones.

Maybe he needed to remind Eli of that.

He took his phone out and dialled the hospital where Eli worked; if Eli wouldn't answer his phone for him then he had to find some other way to reach out. A woman's voice sounded after a few seconds.

"Hi, I'm calling for Eli Gilligan."

"May I ask who's calling?"

He couldn't say he was Eli's boyfriend, or even use his name, Eli would never take the phone. "His brother," he lied. "It's–urgent."

He felt bad for using Eli's brother to get him on the phone, but it was a last resort and he was desperate; Eli had promised him they'd talk later, and he hadn't even cared that it was about his stuff, he just wanted to hear Eli's voice. If they talked maybe they could work things out, try again, maybe not even live together at first but recapture something that had always been good for both of them. Something stable.

He was so caught up in all his daydreaming he almost missed it, the horn on the other end of the line creaking, and then– "Aaron, what's wrong?" –Eli's voice for the first time in days. He basked in it, even if Eli wasn't addressing him, soaked up the timbre like Rachel's 'I love you', only Eli's voice affected him far more than his friend's.

"E?" he asked carefully, leaning back against the wall.

"Blaine." Eli sighed deeply. "I don't want you to call me anymore."

"I know, but I just–"_ stay calm_, he told himself, but it didn't take, their connection was so fragile right now, their time precious and should he really waste it on talking about Eli's belongings? "I miss you, baby," he said, sliding down the wall, all his defences gone, as they so often were around Eli. "I miss you so much. Can't you come over so we can talk about this?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You just up and left without–" It wasn't fair, Eli didn't get to force this on him, he needed proximity, it made things make sense. Everything was chaos now. "Please, E, for me?" he begged. "I don't want to be alone, I need–"

All he needed was to get Eli home so he could make him see, he'd shave and dress up and be the perfect boyfriend, listen to all of Eli's worries, he'd be better than he was before.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Eli's voice hardened, but he could hear him struggle. "I can't."

He whimpered. "Just like that?" he cried, feeling Eli slip away all over again. "It's over? Without even–" _without a reason_, _without warning_, _without talking to him first_. It felt like they couldn't even be friends anymore.

"Goodbye, Blaine," Eli said, before the line went dead and everything fell silent again.

He clutched his phone tightly in one hand, his head dropping back against the wall, his eyes heavy with tears. His heart hammered against his ribs and he became aware of his own breathing, his head a haze, sleep and hunger clutching around him. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. He looked around the apartment, pieces of Eli missing everywhere. It didn't feel like theirs anymore, and it certainly didn't feel like his and he had enough of this, Eli's unresponsiveness, his own sense of being adrift.

He jumped up from the ground, heart still beating up a storm, but he snatched Rachel's care package off the ground and made his way into the bathroom. He would get himself together, stop this pity party because it wasn't helping anyone, and go confront Eli face to face if he had to. He shaved in broad decisive strokes, close to the skin, slowly but surely emerging from underneath all the hair and shaving cream.

It felt strangely cathartic, shaving, showering, putting on some clean clothes, it re-established some grip he'd lost on his life. He felt like a new man, though still broken, but a little more resistant to whatever else life would choose to throw at him.

That first thing turned out to be the alarming amount of old medication in the medicine cabinet, pills well past their expiration dates because they'd never been used–even the aspirin was outdated. He took out every bottle and studied it carefully, putting the expired bottles down on the sink, lids screwed open. Maybe he got a little obsessive about cleaning sometimes, it made him feel like he was creating order even if there wasn't any, and he needed some sense after these past few days.

His stomach growled and his head spun, reminding him he hadn't eaten much of anything in days, but he needed to get this done first. After this he'd clean the bathroom and the living room and then the rest of the apartment, bring back order, disguise some of the holes punched in all the rooms.

His cellphone rang and he realized he'd left it in the living room.

His heart rate spiked: what if it was Eli? What if his phone call had made him see they needed to talk after all? He dropped everything he was doing and meant to run for the door, only his foot caught on the mat and he tripped, the ground hurtling towards him at a staggering pace.

He hit his head on something hard on the way down, his ringtone dying out in the background.

* * *

**#**

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	2. Past Conditional

**WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE**

**part two**

* * *

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

His head throbs just above his left eye and his right wrist has been wrapped in a cast.

The doctor tells him the paramedics found him on the bathroom floor after some firemen broke down the front door. Apparently it'd been Rachel calling him on his cell phone, too worried about him to let her visit slide, and after receiving no answer at the door from him for half an hour she'd freaked out and called the fire department. And thank God she did, who knows how long he could've laid there before anyone had found him.

He should've taken better care of himself.

"Now as for the pills..." the doctor's voice trails off in a strange accusing manner and he looks up into the man's eyes carefully.

The implication hits him too late. "I didn't try to kill myself," he says, realizing how it must have looked to an outsider, him passed out on the floor, surrounded by pills. Maybe he even knocked over some of the bottles when he fell.

"There were a lot of pills, son."

"I tripped!" he almost screams. "I was–" _I broke up with my boyfriend_, _I wasn't eating_, _I was being careless_. "God, I was throwing them out. I swear I wasn't trying to kill myself."

The doctor leafs through his notes. "That may be, but both your brother and I feel–"

"Wait," he interrupts, thoughts catching on one word in particular. "Did you say brother?" he asks, and as if the question had somehow summoned the devil himself, Cooper walks into his room, arms wide open, a wide smile showing all his teeth.

"Blaineeeey!"

He takes a deep breath. "No," he says, and he's pretty sure he wants the word to negate more than one thing. Eli was first on his emergency contact list, Eli was a doctor for God's sake, why had they called Cooper? Had Eli turned them down? Had he told the paramedics to call Cooper instead because they broke up? Had Eli stopped caring altogether?

"What do you mean, no?" Cooper asks. "You're coming home with me. It'll be like old times!"

"I have a broken wrist, Coop. I'll manage on my own," he says, even though life without the use of his dominant hand wouldn't be easy.

Cooper shrugs. "Fine."

His eyes narrow on his brother's face: that was way too easy. Cooper_ never_ gives up easy.

"I'll just give mom a call then," Cooper adds, reaching for his cellphone.

He shoots up in the bed. "Don't you dare."

Cooper shrugs again and starts scrolling through his contacts.

"Put the phone down."

Cooper smiles at him and puts the phone to his ear, the dial tone loud enough to reach his ears too.

"Coop, I am a grown man!" he calls, body shaking, because this is one side his mother and brother have in common. He hasn't seen Cooper in months, their interactions reduced to phone calls and texts in between work and relationships, but this isn't a side of his brother he's particularly missed.

The doctor slowly retreats from the room.

"Hi, mom!" Cooper exclaims as soon as his mother picks up the phone.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself down; he has a concussion and a broken wrist, and he'd need someone to help him out for a bit, but that can't be his mother. She'd insist he stay in bed and spoon-feed him his meals, she'd clean the apartment and rearrange his books, lecture him on heartbreak and how it passes. In other words, life with his mother around would be intolerable.

Staying with Cooper wouldn't be much better than his mother coming over, but he'd be out of an empty apartment, and he'd actually lived with his brother before.

He sags back into the pillow at his back. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll come."

"Yeah, he's fine," Cooper tells their mother. "Don't worry. He's coming home with me."

.

.

And so it came to be that at the age of twenty-four, Blaine Anderson packed his bags to go live with his big brother. They make a quick stop at the apartment, he tells Cooper exactly how to fold his clothes and strap them inside his suitcase, he waters the few plants that had survived his care, and packs his own overnight bag, so he can sneak in some pictures of him and Eli, a few small reminders of happier times.

There's a bloodstain on the small mat in the bathroom, where he'd laid passed out for hours, but at least someone had been kind enough to clear the pills. Despite everything, he doesn't want to leave here, this place had become a home where things lived that weren't material–he couldn't quite word it, but being here felt right.

They pack three suitcases before Cooper points out he isn't actually moving, so they leave it at that and leave for downtown. Cooper lives in one of the calmer parts of the city, little traffic but plenty of people packed on top of each other to make anyone realize they were still in New York, and 'calm' was a relative term. Five years ago they'd chosen the location for practical reasons: it was only five minutes from the subway and he only needed to take two different lines to get to school, the car they owned mostly driven by Cooper to head to his bartending job, or attend auditions whenever he caught wind of one.

"You always loved this place," Cooper says as he parks the car, and it's true, he loved that it became his home away from his parents, even though living with Cooper constantly challenged that decision–he really only traded a prying mother for a far too curious brother, but it was better than living in residence with complete strangers.

"I like my own place," he answers nonetheless.

"It wasn't your own," Cooper says. "It was Eli's too. You have to learn to let go, bro." Cooper reaches over a hand and squeezes his thigh, the mounting headache behind his eyes the only thing keeping him from crying.

He doesn't understand it, he never has, this concept of _letting go_. How does he accept that a person he loved so fiercely for so long has disappeared from his life, after he'd taken up such an important place in his heart. Heartbreak is ugly, heartbreak is painful, and he's never been good at dealing with it in a healthy manner.

And Cooper's right, he likes his own apartment because it was Eli's place too and his presence lingered there, in the bed where they'd spent so many passionate nights, in the kitchen where Eli had spilt his coffee once when they just moved in and the stain had persisted. Everything about that apartment made him think of Eli, and he liked that, it meant keeping him closer for a little while longer, while his scent slowly disappeared. But the memories would always remain.

He gets out of the car and looks up at the building, reminded that there are plenty of memories here too, his first year of college, living with a brother who didn't understand the concept of personal space, the coffee shop around the corner where he'd met Eli. He smiles to himself, grateful that part of Eli lives here too.

"You head upstairs and freshen up," Cooper says, tossing him the keys over the hood of the car. "I'll bring up the rest of your bags."

He pulls his overnight bag tighter over his shoulder and makes his way inside. There's no elevator, which means climbing the four sets of stairs, and by the time he makes it upstairs his calves are burning. He suspects Cooper's still dicking around downstairs because he doesn't hear him in the stairwell.

The apartment hasn't changed much. There's a short hallway with the first bedroom to the left, leading into a large living room, the bathroom located next to the Cooper's bedroom on the other side of the room. The table in the kitchen can comfortably seat four people. For a guy living on his own Cooper keeps his apartment pretty clean, safe for a stray sock on the ground here or there, dirty dishes and utensils in the sink because Cooper abhors any work in the kitchen.

He makes his way into the bathroom and takes off his shirt, grateful that he had the sense to add a fresh outfit to his bag. He's not sure how long he'll last living with Cooper, last time he spent a lot of time at school and in the library, and then Eli continually tempted him away–what does he have now? The doctor gave him two weeks off work due to his concussion and he didn't feel up to going out with friends.

His chest still hurts, eyes pounding in his skull, his wrist throbbing too. It's almost ironic that the doctor prescribed him pain medication after believing he tried to kill himself.

The doorknob turns. "Coop, I'm–" he starts to complain, because Cooper knows he's in here.

But the person who pushes through the door isn't Cooper.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks, taking in the stranger making his way into Cooper's bathroom.

"Shit, I'm sorry," the guy says, far too calm given the situation, even though he's pretty sure he's not some cat burglar. But who is this guy? Had he walked into the wrong apartment?

The stranger takes a few steps back into the living room, and he quickly grabs a shirt from his bag, covering himself up. He follows the stranger outside, getting a better look: he stands gracefully tall, sandy brown hair, wearing a black sleeveless top that hugs his broad chest tightly, matching black slacks with a white line running down the sides–_and he's sweaty_.

"I'm Cooper's roommate," the guy explains, pulling the earbuds to his iPod from his ears.

"Cooper–doesn't have a roommate," he says tentatively, but then he thinks about how the apartment is _really_ clean and this guy seems perfectly at ease. He relaxes, but only a little. Why hadn't Cooper told him he had a roommate?

The taller man's eyes narrow on his face. "You'd think I'd know what I've been spending my money on."

"He didn't mention a roommate." But when he thinks about it this is exactly the kind of thing his brother would pull, and it had to be easier to keep the apartment with someone else paying for it too.

The stranger smiles, a gorgeous confident smile, all teeth, and he can imagine it puts a lot of people at ease. "You must be Blaine," he says, and offers a hand, but before he can introduce himself Cooper storms into the room, as if he finally remembered Blaine could be running into a stranger upstairs and he might actually have some questions about that.

"Blaine Blaine Blaine!" Cooper calls, dropping his bags to the floor as he goes. "It's okay!" he says, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "This is Sebastian, he's been staying in the spare room."

"You rented out my room?" he asks, ignoring the fact that Sebastian's right there with them. This is exactly up Cooper's alley, inviting him to stay without having the room to put him. "To a complete stranger?"

Sebastian cuts in. "Okay, first of all, I'm not a stranger," he says. "I provided Cooper with very solid legal advice when no one would listen to him."

He eyes his brother. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Cooper shrugs. "I might've pointed at a meter maid the wrong way."

"And let me guess, you gave her the Roxy Harvey routine."

Cooper points at him. "That's a great routine."

"Second," Sebastian continues as if they hadn't spoken at all. "You don't live here anymore."

He looks at Sebastian, taking note of his green eyes. "You're a lawyer?" he asks.

Sebastian leans back against the couch, crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating his impressive set of biceps. "First year associate at a very prestigious law firm." Sebastian smiles easy again, clearly proud of his job. He winks and slaps Cooper's shoulder. "I'm gonna hit the shower."

His eyes follow Sebastian towards the bathroom, and he sighs. Now he's not only stuck with Cooper for two weeks, but with a guy Cooper seemingly picked at random.

"Cheer up, squirt," Cooper says, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Sofa's a pull-out."

.

.

Sleeping on the couch, it turns out, sounds far better in theory than put in practice.

Cooper's been seeing some girl named Sarah, a tall blonde with the kind of legs that would make straight men swoon (but he can appreciate as much as anyone), a smile that matched Cooper's in wattage, and a sophistication that only comes with money. He's always known Cooper was a ladies man, that he could get women without so much as opening his mouth, but Sarah seems way out of his brother's league.

When Cooper tells him that they're in an open relationship, free to see other people without tempting the other's scorn, he can't help but think Cooper's making the mistake of his life. His brother isn't the kind of guy to handle everything that an open relationship could entail, and Sarah doesn't strike him as the kind of girl to focus her attention on more than one guy at a time.

Neither Cooper nor Sarah understands the concept of being quiet. The first two days he's there they stumble into the flat lip locked, make out against the wall and once he hears the clang of Cooper's belt being undone he grabs the two pillows on the couch and buries his head between them. Anyone would think that would give Cooper or Sarah a hint, but they happily continue, giggling and moaning, and when they finally do make it into the bedroom, the door slamming loud, he finds out Cooper's voice has greatly improved. If there was ever a list of things brothers don't need to know about each other, having the other hear them have sex would be pretty high on that list.

It comes as a surprise then that Sebastian – who for all intents and purposes doesn't know him at all – actually takes a lot more care when he comes home with someone.

"Shh," he wakes up to Sebastian's quiet whisper his third night on the couch, the second pillow slipped off his head in all his tossing and turning. Sebastian actually closes the front door silently (he had no idea that was even possible) and cautions his date with a subtle 'hey'.

"Who's he?" a male voice asks, and his eyes shoot open. He doesn't know why he's so surprised to find out Sebastian's gay, or bisexual, but he's grateful he has his back turned to Sebastian's room–he feels his cheeks flush hot and his arms feel empty, something distinctly missing.

"Roommate's brother," Sebastian answers, and the room goes quiet. He hears Sebastian and his date whisper something before Sebastian offers an explanation: "Tough breakup," he says, and Eli's right there again, the ghosts of his arms around him but he's all alone, trapped in an apartment with two guys who seem to have plenty of fun without feeling the need to add something permanent to their lives. Not that he knows Sebastian that well to already have reached that conclusion.

"Straight?" Sebastian's date asks and he guesses Sebastian must shake his head, because the next thing out of the guy's mouth is: "How do you always get so lucky?"

He knows he could take it as a compliment, but then he hears the distinct sound of kissing, the smack of lips meeting skin, hands skimming down fabric, breathing growing heavy. The door to Sebastian's room closes seconds later, but the privacy of Sebastian's room seems to warrant more noise, moans and rushed words and before he knows it he's wide awake, listening to Sebastian fuck another guy in the next room. He longs for the quiet and comfort of home, an empty flat sounds more appealing than this overcrowded one right now.

Until he remembers he carries that emptiness inside, in his heart, and no amount of people around him could chase that away.

.

.

_Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Eli C. Leave a message after the beep and I'll return your call as soon as possible._

...

...

.

.

"You don't have to do this every night," Sebastian tells him on his fourth night, after he drops his suitcase in the hallway and makes his way into the kitchen.

He's surrounded by pots and pans Cooper swore they hadn't owned before, making them all dinner. He smiles. "I like doing it," he says, thinking it's a strange comment to make, considering Sebastian's had take-out at work since he got here.

Sebastian grabs a beer from the fridge and leans back against it. There's a contemplative silence where he feels Sebastian's eyes pinned on him, and he guesses Sebastian lingers for a reason. "So, you didn't really try to kill yourself, did you?" Sebastian asks.

"What?" He whirls around, shock running through his entire body. He thought he'd settled this at the hospital. Is that what people thought of him now, that he'd actually tried to kill himself after a tough breakup, that he'd try to rid himself of his pain permanently? Is this what his parents thought?

"Coop!" he calls, and once again his name summons his brother to him.

"Bas, we were going to keep that between us," Cooper tells Sebastian; he'd obviously been listening from the other room.

Sebastian shrugs. "He doesn't seem like the type."

"I'm not," he says, waving around the ladle in his hand between Sebastian and his brother like a magic wand. "Look, honestly, I was cleaning out the medicine cabinet, I fell, and hit my head."

Maybe he's still in a coma, maybe this is all an elaborate hallucination he's dreaming up in a hospital bed. Though if that's true he hopes he has a more colorful imagination than this. He really needs to make it clear to Cooper that he can't go and spread this story around.

"See?" Sebastian raises his eyebrows at Cooper, and he gets the feeling Sebastian and Cooper have talked about this behind his back, maybe even before he got here. "That story is way too ridiculous not to be true," he says. "Just like you and your meter maid."

Sebastian looks at him and winks.

He frowns to himself. "Thanks?" he says, surprised that Sebastian reads him better than his brother.

.

.

It takes him five days to muster the courage to venture outside, and when he does it's down to the coffee shop around the corner, a place that held his first memory of Eli, a place he should avoid if he ever planned on mending his broken heart. But he wants to see it again, see if it's changed like him and Eli, see if there was still a point to hanging onto things long gone.

Turns out there is no point. It's still a coffee shop, but it's been modernized, younger baristas and a more colorful décor, the counter moved to the opposite wall, smaller tables. He orders a medium drip without looking the barista in the eye, sits down at a corner table close to where Eli had been sitting four years ago.

He'd been living with Cooper for six months at the time, and he hadn't gone to the coffee shop before because he caught the subway to school in the opposite direction. But then Cooper had to pretend he was an electrician and he'd broken their Wi-Fi right before he needed to send in an essay for his Psychology class and he couldn't afford to send it in late.

He'd rushed down to the coffee shop with only his laptop, walked up to the first table that still had an empty chair and begged its occupant to let him sit so he could save his academic future. That's how he'd met Eli C. Gilligan, second-year med student at Columbia, son of a successful neurosurgeon who'd decided that following in his father's footsteps didn't have to be the end of the world.

They'd talked for hours before exchanging phone numbers, fallen in love faster than he'd thought possible, moved in together only six months later. There were people in his life who'd told him he was giving up too much for a relationship that had started so fast, that Eli used him, but he'd always ignored those pleas in favor of listening to his heart.

The bell above the door jingles and Cooper comes in.

He sighs, wondering if he'll be getting any time to himself at all while he stays with his brother. Cooper walks right up to his table but doesn't sit down. "Blaine, let's go," he orders, no hint of humor in his tone or his face. He doesn't see his brother like this very often.

"I'm not finished."

"Don't you think I know what you're doing here?"

He casts down his eyes. Cooper knows all too well this is where he met Eli; he'd run straight home after meeting Eli and told Cooper all about this amazing guy he'd met, that he was smart and funny and cute. So he also knows what Cooper is accusing him of, of wallowing in the past, reaching back to memories because he has little hope of creating new ones.

"I think I'm allowed–" he starts carefully, but Cooper settles down at the table and fixes his eyes on him.

"Blaine, you have to stop torturing yourself like this," Cooper pleads. "You have to open yourself up to new experiences."

"What, like you and Sarah?" he blurts out, even though he meant to ask_ after one week_? He's not ready to move on or let go, whatever that means in the first place. He hardly remembers life without Eli, moving on would require getting to know himself all over again without a co-dependency he'd cherished. He can't have Eli back, he can't move back in with Cooper. He's stuck.

And he won't hear this from Cooper, not when he's doing the exact same thing.

Cooper blinks. "What do you mean?"

"An open relationship, Coop?" he questions. "You can say what you want about new experiences, but I know you. You're doing this for her."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Cooper says, but he can tell he's hit a nerve. There aren't many things he can't read in his brother's face. "I'm still me."

"So it's only unhealthy when I do it," he concludes, never once before having believed that Cooper was a hypocrite. Cooper's allowed to turn his life around, to change part of who he is or what he wants from a relationship, but clearly he's not allowed to do the same. He realizes belatedly that it's a messed-up logic in any relationship.

"Blaine–"

"No, Coop, don't Blaine me," he interrupts his brother and stands up. "Because it turns out we're both pretty hopeless when it comes to love."

Cooper doesn't follow him out; when he looks back through the window he sees Cooper still seated at the table, staring blankly ahead, considering his words carefully.

.

.

_Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Eli C. Leave a message after the beep and I'll return your call as soon as possible._

.

.

It doesn't take him very long to fall into a routine again, one week before he figures out it's best he use the bathroom in between Sebastian and Cooper, because Sebastian gets up early and Cooper gets up shamefully late. Sarah sneaks out even earlier than Sebastian to head to her own apartment first, he assumes, and Sebastian shares his bathroom time with his boyfriend the sparse nights he stays over. Whenever the boyfriend doesn't stay over, Sebastian goes for a run first.

He knows Cooper doesn't eat breakfast, but enjoys a cup of coffee, so he gets up after Sebastian and makes them all a pot, one for the road for Sebastian, one waiting on the table once Cooper decides to grace him with his presence. It's something he does to keep from going crazy, the mingle of bodies in this place enough to make his head spin, but this way he feels like he's contributing to the natural ebb and flow.

He's pouring himself a cup of coffee when he hears the bathroom door open, Sebastian padding towards the kitchen barefoot. He resists the urge to grab Sebastian a bowl from the overhead cupboard–Cooper had told him it was weird he already knew Sebastian had the same thing for breakfast every morning, but he sure never complained when his coffee stood waiting for him as soon as he rolled out of bed. Cooper was right, of course, he was just living with two other guys for a while and catering to their every whim seemed creepily close to how his mother often forced her way into his life.

He crosses the kitchen to get out of Sebastian's way, but almost walks face first into Sebastian's naked torso. "Jesus," he exclaims and steps aside to let Sebastian pass.

Sebastian smiles but doesn't comment, grabbing a bowl, a spoon and some milk, the box of cereal on the kitchen counter.

"Do you ever wear a shirt?" he asks, having trouble keeping his eyes from trailing up Sebastian's back. From his slim waist to his broad shoulders Sebastian is flawless skin all over, beauty spots down his neck, down between his shoulder blades, some stray ones blotted along his spine, the small of his back–

"Cooper doesn't mind," Sebastian says, adding milk to his cereal.

He shakes his head, hating himself for staring. "Yeah–" He clears his throat. "Cooper's–"

Sebastian turns around and raises an eyebrow. "Straight?" he teases as he chucks down a spoonful of cereal.

"_Confident_," he corrects, perhaps a little too stern, his cheeks burning hot. "I was gonna say–confident."

It's not that he minds Sebastian walking around half-naked every morning, he had a nice body and clearly knew that, but he wasn't some predatory gay. Only he's pretty sure that Sebastian being gay too has made it increasingly harder for him to stop staring.

Sebastian takes a step closer, balancing the bowl of cereal in one hand. "Don't sell yourself short, killer," he says. "You're a catch."

A shuddery breath escapes him, not unaffected by Sebastian's blatant flirting, and for some reason he feels guilty. It's ridiculous, because he doesn't owe Eli any shame, but he still shakes off the remark without comment. Instead, he settles down opposite Sebastian at the kitchen table, palming a hot cup of coffee.

"What exactly is it that you do?"

Sebastian looks up from the newspaper splayed out in the middle of the table. "Why do you want to know?"

"You're my brother's roommate." He shrugs. "I want to get to know you."

Sebastian chuckles. "I'm not sure your brother knows what I do," he says, but ends up explaining the intricacies of everything Schuester & Sylvester hired him to do, filing motions, assisting the senior partners as best as he can, finding loopholes in official documents.

And it's nice, talking to Sebastian about everyday life, even if his life in the corporate lawyer business often sounds more like a film noir he can't understand the plot of than an actual job people do. Sebastian's life seems grand and exciting, and he feels increasingly smaller in his presence, not even finding distraction in the dark spots on his chest.

Sebastian returns the favor by asking him what he does, but he stares down at the table, drawing random patterns on the hard surface, and only answers after Sebastian insists with that dazzling smile.

"I'm a–waiter at the Del Monico," his voice sounds small and somehow he shrinks even further, because it was all Eli's idea, he'd been looking for something he'd actually like doing, but Eli had insisted they needed the money, that _he_ needed the money. He hadn't enjoyed a great many days, his boss Terri a tyrant, most of his fellow waiters equally hateful of their job, their customers often rude and verbally abusive.

But it paid extremely well.

.

.

_Hi, you've reached the voicemail of E–_

.

.

He's returning from the laundry room in the basement when he hears raised voices coming from the apartment. At first he thinks it has to be coming from the television, but once he pops his earbuds from his ears he realizes the male voice is Cooper's, the woman's Sarah's. They're screaming back and forth about things he can't make out, but it's pretty clear they're both angry and things are getting heated.

He approaches the door carefully, but the voices only become louder and he decides he can't go inside while his brother and his girlfriend are fighting.

Sebastian seems to have thought the same thing, because there's a note on the door for him:

_Enter at your own peril._

_If not, meet me on the roof._

_S._

He tears the note from the door so that Cooper doesn't find it later, but figures he can't decline Sebastian's offer. The last thing he wants to do is become caught between Sarah and his brother. He takes the laundry basket upstairs with him, ascending four flights of stairs before he reaches the door to the roof.

The roof isn't unlike other New York roofs, made to look like a huge terrace, chairs here and there, potted plants in the corners, old colored Christmas lights brightening the scene. A creak sounds to his right, Sebastian seated by himself in a huge canopy swing.

Sebastian throws him a look that says_ I assume they're still fightin_g and then pets the empty spot on the cushion next to him. He walks over and sits down next to Sebastian, his legs barely touching the ground, so it's Sebastian who controls the slight sway of the swing.

"They do this sometimes," Sebastian explains. "They fight, they apologize, they make up. Very loudly."

Sebastian offers him a beer from the six-pack standing by his feet.

"I don't drink."

"Not even beer?"

He shakes his head. Sebastian shrugs and unscrews his bottle, flipping the cap into a bucket standing on the building's ledge.

"What do they fight about?" he asks, the only sounds up here the city alive below them.

"She gets jealous," Sebastian answers, taking a swig from his beer.

It's strange, he always figured Cooper as the jealous type. "Coop would never cheat on her," he states. He knows his brother, he'd never give Sarah reason to be jealous. Not on purpose anyway; Cooper could be ridiculously oblivious to the effect he had on women.

"No, he wouldn't," Sebastian agrees. "And she wouldn't cheat on Cooper."

They lapse into a comfortable silence, Sebastian slowly swinging them back and forth and he wonders how often Sebastian's been up here, with or without Cooper and Sarah fighting. It's a nice spot with a great view, especially with the sun going down, the sky a smattering of oranges and reds.

"It's sad really," Sebastian adds as an afterthought. "They're in love, but both too stubborn to admit it."

So Sebastian sees it too, he thinks, it's not such a crazy notion to think that an open relationship was a mistake for Cooper and Sarah. Sebastian knows his brother well for a guy he'd only met a few months ago.

"Where's your boyfriend tonight?" he asks, reminded that Sebastian's boyfriend hadn't been by for a few days while Sebastian hadn't been working the craziest hours. He and Eli spent every free moment of their first year together.

"Who, Nick?" Sebastian asks, and smiles. "He's not really my boyfriend. We're more–casual."

"Oh," he mutters, seriously considering the _Life on Mars_ option again, because how had he ended up living with two guys who had such a loose idea of relationships? Was this life's way of telling him he had to loosen up too?

.

.

Sarah comes and goes.

Nick comes and goes.

Sebastian and Cooper go to work, talk about their lives at breakfast or dinner or both, and he thinks it's his insistence on routine that does him in time and time again. Over the years routine had become his security blanket, if followed precisely nothing could go wrong, there'd be no surprises that could upturn his life, only it left him blind and vulnerable whenever something threatened that routine.

Right now routine keeps him together, stops him from sinking down on the couch to cry some more. Cooper's always a nice distraction, Sarah's interest in his life was refreshing, and Sebastian's guilt over taking his generosity so freely ensures him help in the kitchen on most nights.

He remains, stuck, his phone calls unanswered even though he knows Adam told Eli about his accident, he shuts himself off from old friendships in favor of nurturing his broken heart. He thinks Eli could at least have had the decency to call and ask if he was okay, even if it would be a two minute conversation. He calls Eli, almost every day, but never leaves a message–Eli's phone would tell him who called, and he refuses to lower himself to begging again.

But almost three weeks have gone by and Eli had promised, he'd said they'd talk. If another chance at a relationship was off the table, they needed to decide what to do with their furniture and the apartment.

.

.

He stares down at his phone, thumb hovering over the call button.

.

.

"Where did you learn how to cook?" Sebastian asks, pulling another plate from the dish rack to dry.

Who knew that Sebastian would be his ally when he decided to stay here? He's not sure if it's the suicide story that keeps Sebastian careful, or if he's always this laid-back easy-going kind of guy, but he likes how easy it is to like Sebastian, how Sebastian remains judgment free, unlike Cooper.

"Books mostly." He shrugs. "And the cooks at the restaurant give me advice. Eli–"

"Dude, enough with the Eli," Cooper interrupts their conversation. "_Forget him_."

The two words strike like lightning, nestling somewhere close to the pain he was already experiencing.

Cooper stands up and puts his plate down in the sink, unaware that he's gone completely still. Unlike his brother, he thinks Sebastian can tell. "He left," Cooper adds. "It's in the past. It's time to move on."

"Coop–" Sebastian warns, but he's already got a foot out the kitchen before Cooper asks 'What?' followed by a 'Where are you going?'.

"I'm getting some air," he answers, snatching his jacket off the couch and heading for the door. It's hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"Hey, Blaine!" he hears Cooper call behind him, but he's in the hallway and at the stairs in three seconds flat.

He can't keep hearing this, he needs to be able to mention Eli without people pointing out his absence. Break-up or not Eli was a part of his life he can't cut away, he can't forget, because in between their relationship there was_ life_, family and friends and work, Eli interwoven with all of them.

"Blaine, wait up." Cooper's footsteps in the hallway "Hey." Cooper catches up with him running down the stairs and stops him by grabbing his arm. "What's wrong?"

"_Forget him_?" he asks, his voice lowered.

"He left you," Cooper says, dead serious.

It still stabs at him, the absoluteness of it all, Eli had gone from his life without looking back, without mercy, like he thought that ripping off the band-aid quickly would make the pain pass faster. And maybe Eli would be right, maybe this pain would leave him eventually and he'd find some way to mend his heart. But that time won't come soon.

He shakes his head and holds back tears, making his way further down, Cooper following behind silently.

"Come on, squirt, what's wrong?" Cooper asks as soon as they hit the street.

"You're my brother, Coop, you should know I– I can't just forget him."

"Blaine–"

"I had him for four years, Coop!" he shouts, sick and tired of being _Blaine-d_ or belittled, judged for feeling bad that his boyfriend broke his heart, he's tired of trying to hide it so desperately because there are still days where he wants to lie down and cry, open the floodgates and let it overwhelm him. "I took care of him for four years," he adds. "And with one line,_ six words_, he threw that all away."

"You built your life around him for four years!" Cooper shouts back, voice echoing down the street.

It's always the same old song, everyone feels the need to tell him this, to point out how much he gave up but never considered what he got back. Maybe he'd been an idiot not to take a step back for four years, maybe he should've taken moments to analyze their relationship, then maybe it wouldn't have fallen apart. But Eli gave him plenty.

"I expect this kind of thing from mom and dad," he says. "But not from you."

Cooper's blue eyes shine with pain. "You hurt yourself, Blaine."

"Oh my God!" he screams, three weeks of pent up rage breaking free. "No, I didn't! I would never do that!" He'd never kill himself. He went through a tough time in high school, but that was behind him, he'd gone through counselling after transferring schools and he'd gotten better, the school had been better_, things had gotten bette_r. He could never do that to himself knowing what he could be missing out on.

"Yes, I'm heartbroken and it hurts, Coop, it hurts so much, but I'm not perfect!" He takes a deep breath, a weight dropping from his shoulders. He'd tried being perfect for far too long. "I wasn't–perfect."

"Is that what this is about? You think you weren't good enough for Eli?"

He throws up his hands. "Why else would he–"

"Blaine, you gave that guy everything," Cooper says. "You quit school, helped pay his tuition. That's not healthy."

He still doesn't want to hear it, least of all from a guy who was giving the girl he loved something he thought she wanted, but Cooper's right. It's not healthy, everyone said it, and he refused to hear it. He was happy with Eli, wrapped up in a secure relationship that maybe even he had taken for granted.

"I'm only saying this because I love you," Cooper says. "You're my baby brother. I want to see you happy."

The realization strikes him with defeat: Eli couldn't make him happy anymore.

"It was–f-four years, Coop," he stutters, tears flooding his eyes. How can he give up on four years?

"I know, little brother." Cooper takes a step closer. "Come here."

Cooper opens his arms and he moves forward tentatively, reaching his arms around his brother. A sob escapes him and Cooper's arms tighten around him as if to say _it's okay, let it all out, you can trust me with your pain_. He lets his tears flow freely, fingers clinging at Cooper's back, face half-buried in his shoulder. And for the first time in three weeks, he feels like the person holding him could actually keep him together.

.

.

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	3. Intermission

**WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE**

**part three**

* * *

On Friday night, Sebastian stumbles in with a new guy at nine, and he thinks it's too early in the evening for Sebastian to already be done partying. They're both in their work suits, ties loosened around their necks, and they're decidedly not touching. So he assumes this is one of Sebastian's colleagues.

He's settled down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, enjoying the peace and quiet of an empty apartment for once, watching some cheesy Howard Hawks movie on TCM.

"Hey, killer." Sebastian stalks over to him, leaning down on the back of the couch, his breath hot against his temple. He shivers involuntarily, Sebastian too close to ignore. "We just won our first case," Sebastian says. "And you're coming out with us to celebrate."

"Oh–no," he stutters, head jerking. "I'm fine here. I mean–"

"You start work again on Monday," Sebastian interrupts, rounding the couch, and plops down at his feet.

"I don't drink," he says, pulling his legs up to his chest. "And Coop would worry."

Sebastian sighs, and he wonders what has him all riled up. "Tell me," Sebastian says, leaning closer to him, paying no attention to the third man in the room. "This douche rocket who dumped you, did he ever mention you are an epic bore?" Sebastian asks. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you are one fine piece of real estate, but live a little, Blaine. There's a whole world of guys out there, and you're hung up on one?"

His face falls; why is Sebastian acting so mean?

"You're drunk," he says.

"I'm high," Sebastian corrects, and his colleague's chuckle resounds behind them. "I do, however, plan on getting absolutely wasted tonight." Sebastian grins, the smile disarming. "Come on, killer."

But Sebastian's mood changes like the wind. "Actually screw this," he says, standing up in one smooth move, hovering over him. "I'm not giving you a choice." He snatches his loafers out from under the couch and tosses them over to him. "Get up," Sebastian orders.

His cheeks flush hot, Sebastian's eyes fixed tight on his face. He doesn't feel like going out, he doubts Sebastian's scene is his thing and he doesn't want to spend the night huddled in some corner somewhere watching Sebastian have fun. But he doubts Sebastian will take no for an answer.

"I can't go out like this," he tries, his voice lacking conviction.

"Your clothes are fine," Sebastian says, sitting down next to him again, legs touching his feet. He swallows hard. "Your hair's fine," Sebastian adds. "You look amazing, squirt."

"Don't call me that."

Sebastian straightens and he reels back, hit by Sebastian's body heat and his cologne and suddenly he's picturing his brother's roommate half-naked again. "Get. Up," Sebastian insists, a clear challenge playing inside the green of his eyes.

He takes a deep breath, but Sebastian holds his ground; he doesn't budge, doesn't move a muscle. He does start work again on Monday, he'll fall back into an old routine while he starts hunting for a new apartment. Things would get harder again.

"Fine," he caves. He gets up alongside Sebastian. "But I'm changing first."

Sebastian's eyes narrow on his face, but he keeps silent. "Five minutes," he says, and a pleasant quiver twists in his stomach. Sebastian makes it really easy to be friends with him, but he is also utterly impossible to say no to.

He changes into a purple t-shirt–it's not his usual style, but a button-down would be too difficult to tug into his pants with only one hand. He brushes his teeth and puts on some cologne, a strange semblance of normality settling over him.

By the time he makes it outside, close to ten minutes later, Sebastian's colleague stands alone in the living room, leaning back against the couch–he's lost his jacket and tie, white shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbone.

"I'm Hunter, by the way," he says, taking a few steps towards him to offer his hand. "Hunter Clarington."

"Blaine." He shakes the man's hand just as the door to Sebastian's room opens; apparently his insistence on changing wasn't a bad notion, because Sebastian has ditched his suit in favor of a white V-neck shirt and washed-out jeans. The suit made him look like a lawyer, this outfit almost makes him look like a boy.

"You guys ready to party?" Sebastian asks, shrugging a jacket around his shoulders.

"Where are we going?" he asks, finally releasing Hunter's hand, but he fails to tear his eyes away from Sebastian.

"Skinnies right around the corner for some drinks," Sebastian answers, coming a few steps closer. "Then we're hitting Noxx."

"The nightclub?" he asks. He'd heard Adam and Cooper talk about it a few times, it was only two blocks away. He and Eli had never been there because Eli was either working or he needed the sleep to function at work the day after. He'd never been clubbing either, college had consisted of some frat parties where he got far too drunk, or cozy conversations at bars with his peers.

"Problem, killer?" Sebastian asks. His lips form around an argument but Sebastian's speaking again before he can answer. "If you don't like it, you can slink back up here after the bar," he concedes. "For now," – he slings an arm around his shoulder and puts his lips close to his ear – "your ass is mine," Sebastian whispers.

A shiver courses up his spine, Sebastian's sudden familiarity both exciting and terrifying–exciting because he's gorgeous and nice and he's grown to like him, terrifying because he's gorgeous and hot and he's not sure he'll be able to resist should Sebastian try to seduce him. At this point he's not sure he wants to resist at all.

He's also terrified that Sebastian's only being cool around him because deep down he believes what Cooper still believes, that he tried to kill himself, that he came that close to the edge and only his clumsiness had saved him. He doesn't want to be that guy.

The three of them make their way down to the bar, already packed by the time they get there, but the corner table Hunter manages to secure them grants them privacy the rest of the room lacks.

"What are you having, killer?" Sebastian asks, sitting opposite him at the table, Hunter standing to go get their drinks. "Please remember that you're here to have a good time, and we don't need a designated driver."

Sebastian knows very well that he's no longer on any pain medication, otherwise he might not have suggested alcohol, and he can't argue against it other than with his usual 'I don't drink'. But there's a reason he doesn't drink, a reason he wants to put out of his mind, if not just for tonight.

"How about we start you off with a beer?" Sebastian says, and holds up two fingers to Hunter.

He shrugs, figuring he might as well go with whatever Sebastian has planned tonight.

"Where's Nick tonight?" he asks, watching Hunter make his way over to the bar and shout their orders at the bartender.

"Family obligations," Sebastian says, but he doesn't seem particularly torn up about it. He understands the concept of a casual relationship as well as the next person, but it seemed like a strange way to go through life, having sex with someone without that becoming more. It's not something he thinks he's cut out for.

"He's not that big on drinking anyway," Sebastian adds. "Hunter, on the other hand–"

He glances over his shoulder; Hunter's talking to a cute brunette girl whose laugh can be heard through the entire bar after Hunter leans in and whispers something in her ear.

"Yes, I am capable of having straight friends," Sebastian says unprompted.

He looks back at Sebastian and huffs a laugh. He had no intention of judging Sebastian's friends on the grounds of their sexuality, that would be hypocritical or downright mean. But he thinks Sebastian's mostly joking.

Hunter returns with their drinks a few minutes later, and they fall into a conversation about life and work. It's almost surreal how normal it all feels, like they've all been friends forever and are just talking about their days.

He finds out Nick works as a paralegal at the law firm Sebastian and Hunter work, that Hunter and Sebastian actually work for rivalling bosses but they get along fine, and they're often the only reason why the two most senior partners don't rip each other's throats out. He doesn't understand how their bosses' hatred of one another keeps a company running, but Hunter shrugs it off by answering "Lawyers" as if that explains everything.

It isn't long before Hunter sneaks off to flirt with the brunette again, leaving him alone with Sebastian and his as yet half finished beer. Sebastian's already on his second.

"I'm sorry about the comment about your ex," Sebastian says, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

"No, you were right." He sighs, forming a fist around his beer bottle. "Who cares that I threw around my entire life to make room for his? Who cares that he walked away after four years?" he asks, talking to himself more than Sebastian. He's never said this out loud, only heard it as accusations from others, but it's freeing, saying it to a semi-stranger who doesn't know him or Eli or his life, so he can't judge.

Cooper can say he understands all he wants, but his brother has an image of Eli set in his mind and it's hard for him to hear anything else. He appreciates his brother trying, loves that they've found some way to communicate about it, that Cooper chose to comfort and hold him rather than point out all the cracks in his previous relationship. But he doesn't understand. Sometimes he gets the feeling that Sebastian does.

He takes a deep breath, eyes unfocused. "Who cares that I have no fucking idea what any of it means anymore?"

Sebastian takes a sip from his beer. "I guess douche rocket wasn't the right term," he says, casting no verdict, he simply sits lounged back against the wall, eyes never leaving him, relaxing after a busy day at work. It's refreshing to sit with someone without obligation, he thinks that if he chooses to talk about Eli Sebastian would let him, wouldn't tell him to move on or forget, but realize that sometimes he has to conjure Eli's memory, make sure the pain's still there and hasn't disappeared because other people expect it to.

A waitress places another beer in front of him. He blinks at the one-and-a-half beers he's now presented with, barely remembering the last time he had any.

"And you know what?" he blurts out. "He's the reason I don't drink," he says, looking up at Sebastian. "He says it makes me too unpredictable." And maybe that's exactly what he needs, a little chaos to the method, a few surprises to break through the rut of routine.

"Well, fuck that." He sits up straighter and downs half a beer within seconds. "Fuck Eli C and the day I laid eyes on him," he says, even though he knows that's his anger talking. "Just–_fuck everything_."

He grabs the second beer.

"Alright, slow down, killer." Sebastian's hand forms a circle around his wrist. "We've got all night."

.

He has a total of three beers before they leave the bar, Hunter's brunette tagging along with them to the club. He's already a little light on his feet, but for now the alcohol has provided a warm tingly feeling, taking away some of the tight control he keeps on himself.

"How often do you guys go out like this?" he asks.

"Whenever our bosses are kind enough to give us the weekend off," Hunter answers, the girl by his side giggling.

"Meaning not nearly enough," Sebastian adds.

The temperature takes him by surprise, and he wishes he'd brought a jacket, only his cast wouldn't fit in any of his jackets' sleeves.

"You cold, killer?" Sebastian asks out of the blue. "Here."

"You don't have to–" he says, but then Sebastian's shrugging out of his jacket and it's around his shoulders, Sebastian's body heat sunk into the fabric, and he can't find it in him to protest any further.

"It's okay," Sebastian whispers, voice a low tease in his ear as he squeezes his shoulders. "I like doing it."

Sebastian throws an arm around him and pulls him close to his side, so close he's forced to slide his own arm around Sebastian's waist to keep them both from keeling over–it's nice, this closeness, though he isn't drunk enough to eliminate all the awkwardness, but he gets the sense that Sebastian only means for this to be an amicable gesture, nothing more.

There's a line outside the club when they arrive, a red carpet filled with people all the way up to the entrance, but Sebastian navigates them to the front, ignoring the dirty looks and complaints thrown their way.

"Puckermaaan," Sebastian drawls out when they reach the front of the row, held back by a red velvet rope he honestly thought was only used in movies, and a bouncer whose muscles hide behind a neatly tailored black and white suit.

"'Sup, Smythe," the bouncer nods, and bumps fists with Sebastian. "Boss let you off the leash again, did he?"

Sebastian smiles. "Do you mind?" He points at the rope. "It's just the four of us."

"_Mi casa es su casa_, bro," the bouncer answers and pulls aside the rope to a soliloquy of grunts and boos. Sebastian pulls him inside with him, arm still secure around his shoulder.

"Girlfriend working tonight, Puckerman?" he hears Hunter ask the bouncer behind him.

"Behind the bar," Puckerman answers.

They weave through the crowd, the heat inside hitting him like a torrent. Sebastian pulls his arm away and removes his jacket, but takes him by the hand so they don't lose each other in the flow of bodies. It's hot inside and he feels the ground thump along with the beat of the music underneath the heels of his shoes.

The bar stretches the whole right side of the room, about a dozen scarcely clad women and men working the line of thirsty patrons. Sebastian takes them all the way to the other end of the room, waving at a petite blonde serving there, who jumps up and down in excitement when she sees him.

"Mr Smythe!" she calls, raising herself up on the bar and leaning over.

"Miss Kitty." Sebastian kisses her on the cheek. "This is Blaine." He waves awkwardly, but Kitty's smile puts him at ease. "You know Hunter, and–"

"Marley," Hunter's date squeaks, and smiles wide.

Kitty fixes her eyes on him. "You're cute." She winks, and he would've found the time to blush if she didn't return her attention to Sebastian in a flash. "What are you having?" she asks, lowering herself behind the bar again.

"Shots," Sebastian says, sliding his credit card over the bar. "And keep 'em coming."

"Sure thing, sugar." Kitty smiles. "I'll send Santana."

He realizes then that Sebastian still hasn't let go of his hand, and he doesn't until they find themselves in a more secluded area, the music close enough to enjoy, but far enough to hear each other speak. He's never met anyone like Sebastian before, who moves about with such ease, adapts to new environments like a chameleon–he wonders if Sebastian uses it as a defense mechanism as well.

Sebastian lets go of his hand, cold and clammy all of a sudden, and sits down in the half circle couch. He sits down as well, forced to scoot closer to Sebastian once Hunter and Marley join them. This isn't his scene at all, and he's not entirely comfortable, but he's here to let go, to experience something new, so he'll ride it out and see where it takes him.

A Latina waitress makes her way into their booth, two platters with about a dozen shots on them balancing on one arm. "Sebastian Smythe," she says. "What brings a no-good lowlife like you back to my corner of the universe?"

He looks at Sebastian carefully, but Sebastian's grinning. "Santana Lopez." He shakes his head. "You know I lose my bite when I go without your insults for too long."

Santana laughs and puts their drinks down on the table, then walks over and sits down next to Sebastian, settling her body pliant against Sebastian's.

"How's that long-legged girlfriend of yours?" Sebastian asks, and at the mention of a girlfriend his heart leaps up for some reason. It's a ridiculous thing to feel, not only does he have female friends like Santana, he has no right to be jealous. He has no _need_ to be jealous, because he doesn't have feelings for Sebastian.

"Still dancing." Santana smiles, then focuses on him. "You must be Cooper's brother."

He frowns, thrown off by the sudden change in pace. "How can you tell?" he asks.

"Family resemblance." Santana shrugs, one of her hands settling on Sebastian's chest, right over his heart. "Be careful with this one, okay?" she says, eyes keeping him pinned in his seat. "No one gets to this gingerbread heart without earning it first."

He's so overwhelmed by everything that's happening that he doesn't immediately realize what Santana's implying. "Oh, we're not–" he stutters. "This isn't–"

"I'm just showing Blaine a good time," Sebastian comes to his aid.

Santana smiles at him surreptitiously, then glances at Sebastian. "Then I'll caution _you _not to overstep your boundaries." She stabs a finger at his chest.

Sebastian chuckles, a lovely low sound. "I've missed you, lady."

"Later, twink." Santana kisses Sebastian on the cheek, before disappearing as quickly as she'd materialized.

Everything moves fast here, faster than he's used to, and it should make his head spin, it should drive him crazy that this world doesn't make sense to him, but the steady music beat his heartbeat's been replaced with, Sebastian's careful attention, and the subtle injection of alcohol in his system somehow keeps him sane.

"Do you know everyone in here?" he asks.

Sebastian grins. "Impressed, are you?"

.

The first shot he gulps down leaves a burn so hot he's afraid it might've ruined his taste buds for life. His throat and nose burn, eyes watering, but once he has it down a warmth spreads through him, one that matches the heat making him sweat. He shakes his head, drops of sweat knitting in his hairline, but he likes this feeling, somehow making him feel present while he loses grip on his immediate surroundings. Hunter's the first to get through all six, all shots divided among them evenly. Marley gets through two before she's pulling Hunter on the dance floor with her, and he doesn't think they'll be seeing the two of them any time soon.

He clinks his fourth shot against Sebastian's fifth, the burn less bright this time, and he can actually start to appreciate the taste. He tries his fifth shot handsfree, but he loses grasp of the shot glass with his lips and the glass tumbles to the ground, drink spilling on the ground; he throws his head back and laughs, the most freeing feeling he's had in a long while.

"I think–" Sebastian's laughing along with him, and it's a boyish laugh more than anything. "I think that's enough for you, killer."

"I thought you wanted me wasted," he says, pulling his legs up on the couch, sitting close inside Sebastian's personal space.

Sebastian swallows down his last shot. "You _are_ wasted," he corrects, still in possession of most of his faculties as far as he can tell. "I want you clear enough to remember tonight."

He tilts his head to the right, licking his lips. He feels outside of himself. "And why's that?"

"So you can remember this too," Sebastian answers, but before he tells him what he's supposed to remember, Sebastian steals one of his shots and gulps it down; he shakes his head and clears his throat, then gets up and holds out his hand. "Let's dance, killer," he says, and flashes him a smile that's entirely irresistible.

He understands what Sebastian wants him to remember, what he avoids saying for the sake of his mending heart: _so you can remember there's life without Eli_, that such a thing is possible in the first place, _there's fun and friends and family in spite of Eli_. He's glad Sebastian doesn't say it, but even more grateful that Sebastian's willing to show him this.

He holds out his hand for Sebastian and before he knows it he's being pulled out of the booth and onto the dance floor, somehow managing to avoid running into anyone. It's almost as if the crowd parts for the two of them, Sebastian leading, him following behind a guy who's setting him free, showing him it's not all about wallowing in the past, they're alive right here and now and they should enjoy every single moment of that.

Sebastian turns before they've reached their unspecified location, shuffling backwards now, hips swaying as if to beckon him closer. There's a grace to everything Sebastian does, his movements and speech come with an ease he hasn't found in many people. And yet he thinks Sebastian lives with his two feet firmly on the ground, well aware what heartache feels like, it's how he recognized it in him, how he reads Cooper so well.

The strobe lighting outlines Sebastian's body in greens and blues, his broad chest and slim waist, long legs and impressive arms. Sebastian comes to a halt, lifting his injured arm up on his shoulder, never stilling, moving his body to the sounds and the beat of the music.

"_Alright, killer_?" he thinks Sebastian asks, the music drowning out his words.

"_Yes_," he breathes, and nods, not even trying to sound over the music. He reaches his other arm up too, both now resting loosely on Sebastian's shoulders. Sebastian puts their foreheads together, bending slightly at the knees, hands digging around his hips to pull him closer.

A new feeling washes over him, a familiar but distant one, one of belonging, of being here and now, exactly where he needs to be, his head and heart and body syncing with Sebastian's. He hasn't felt this in so long, like somehow his hopes and dreams and desires are within reach, right here for the taking. Right there with him.

The club booms around them, bodies and music and the beat, and maybe it's the alcohol, but he feels that if he lets Sebastian go he might take off flying. Their hips move together and electricity sparks between them, a shroud of seduction that's comforting and tempting. Sebastian only has eyes for him. And he only has eyes for Sebastian.

They dance like that for what feels like hours, blurring into days and weeks to infinity, the whole world keeps on turning around them, faster, slower, he's not sure. It's just him and Sebastian at the center of their own little universe.

Alive.

He's overwhelmed by the urge to kiss Sebastian, to crash their mouths together, to fuck it all and have one crazy night with him, to stop questioning everything over and over again without ever finding a way out of the maze.

But he doesn't kiss Sebastian, he just lets his hands explore down Sebastian's arms, down his chest, while Sebastian's do the same, hands roaming up and down his back, his chest, his hips, the sweat on their foreheads mingling, Sebastian as close as he'll allow. He doesn't want to do anything that might chase him away.

He wants to live in this moment. He wants_ to b_e in this moment forever.

But even perfect nights have to end, and soon they're both stumbling backwards onto the street, laughing, giggling, Puckerman offering a steadying hand. They reach the corner of the street without too much difficulty and strut their way through one block unscathed, but as he turns to make a right towards the apartment, Sebastian pulls him the other way.

"We're not going home yet," Sebastian says, and tugs at his arm. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" he asks, but follows Sebastian unchallenged.

"One of my favorite places in the city." Sebastian throws his arm around him again and they walk much like they did earlier, albeit a little less steady on their feet.

The night air acts sobering, a cool breeze bringing him back to his senses, enough to realize that what he felt with Sebastian at the club is something they'll never lose, but they shouldn't make it into more than it was–a connection between two people that can't be denied, but it doesn't have to go beyond that.

And that's okay because the moment was perfect and they were infinite.

Sebastian was just trying to get him to let go.

"Is this it?" he asks, and he halts in his tracks, recognizing the location immediately. It's a small peninsula park not too far from Cooper's apartment he used to pass on his way to school. He'd met up with Eli here once.

"What's the matter?" Sebastian asks, lets go of him and tracks a few steps back. "Oh, come on," he exasperates. "Don't tell me this spot has been sullied by a douche rocket memory."

He laughs beyond his control, Sebastian's drunken state endearing, and decides not to answer Sebastian's question. He doesn't want to let Eli destroy tonight. "Does it matter?" he asks instead, because it doesn't, none of it matters anymore, all these places where he and Eli existed together are all just memories now.

Sebastian jumps up on one of the benches lining the park, balancing along its length precariously, even though he could walk across blindly if he'd been sober. "You can't live in the past, Blaine. You'll lose track of the here and now," he says, looking down at him, hands in his pockets. "And right here, right now, you're hot and we're young and that's all that matters."

Sebastian jumps down and waits for him to join him at his side.

"I'm hot and we're young?" he asks, wondering if that was supposed to be a song quote.

"Not my best line," Sebastian says, clearly not working with all his brain cells. "But true nonetheless."

Sebastian sits down and he joins him, sitting closer than he has to. The park isn't that big, insulated between two tall buildings with colorful murals painted on the sides. But he can understand why it's one of Sebastian's favorite places.

"Do you think I'm fun?" he asks, the words out before he's decided it's something he wants an answer to.

"Is that even a question?"

"I don't mean like this," he says. "I know I'm a fun drunk."

Though 'fun' had never been a term Eli used, it usually resulted in 'I don't like you like this, B' or 'Go sleep it off, babe', as if somehow his drunkenness made his boyfriend feel cheap or his lust unwarranted. Eventually Eli had asked him to stop drinking altogether. And he had, because there was little he didn't grant Eli, and in the grander scheme of things giving up drinking hadn't been a great sacrifice.

But it was one sacrifice in a long line of others and they'd culminated in his complete surrender–maybe not his submission, but he'd put Eli's everything before his everything, and that wasn't healthy.

"I mean in general," he adds. "Do I lack–spirit?"

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked in his for a few seconds, gauging his determination. "You want to hear it straight?" he asks, and he gets the distinct feeling Sebastian asks because he might not like what he has to say.

"Yes," he answers. He's tired of people letting him down easy, walking around like he's made of glass or might actually kill himself. Sebastian has treated him like a man with a broken heart, not excessively so, but he's tiptoed around the most painful parts. "For once I need someone to stop treating me like I'll break at the first sign of trouble."

Sebastian takes a deep breath and stretches his arm out on the back of the bench, so that he's now sitting in the crook of Sebastian's body.

"I think you pretend to be what other people want you to be," Sebastian says. It doesn't drop like a bomb, no explosion or resulting shockwave. It's the truth, for once. And he's known it for a long time. "To your parents. To your brother. To your boyfriend."

He hasn't pretended with Sebastian, not once since they met, he hadn't had the strength to carry around a broken heart and uphold this image his brother had of him. Even if he had pretended, he thinks Sebastian would've seen right through it.

"Do you even like your job?"

He draws in a deep breath. He doesn't need to think about it. "No," he answers. "Eli–"

He sighs.

"Exactly," Sebastian says. "_Eli._"

It's easier to hear it from Sebastian, an outsider's perspective on him and Eli and their relationship. If Sebastian can see their relationship was unhealthy after knowing him only two weeks, well, it's all the proof he needs to see how blind he's been. At least Sebastian didn't judge.

"When's the last time you did something for yourself?" Sebastian asks.

"Everything after my first beer," he jokes, but he knows it's more than that. He came to live with Cooper so he could heal, so he didn't have to be alone even though he felt alone most days. He doesn't want to think where he would be if he hadn't tripped and hit his head, if he'd still be cooped up in his own apartment, surrounded by his past.

"And you had fun, right?"

He nods and smiles, staring down at his hands. "This might've been the most fun I've had in years."

"You're better than them, killer," Sebastian says.

He blinks up at Sebastian, unable to speak. Sebastian's body makes a half turn towards him and he leans closer, as if sharing a secret he wants no one else to hear.

"And they know it too," Sebastian adds. "So they try to hold you down, try to fit you into a box. But you're better."

He's not sure what to make of this, if Sebastian's drunken state makes him more earnest without him realizing or if it's something Sebastian needs him to hear. He wonders if anyone's ever tried holding Sebastian down.

"You're good-looking, a great cook, you're generous," Sebastian sums up. A blush creeps up the back of his neck, right up to his cheeks. "Maybe a little too trusting, but there's nothing wrong with that."

He's never thought himself better than anyone, safe maybe for his bullies in high school, but he doesn't want to think of himself like that. He's come to realize that maybe he deserves better than Eli, that he deserves someone who forces him to take a step back from time to time or appreciates the things he does. But he's not better than Eli, nor was Eli better than him. He doesn't know how to think of people in those terms.

"You're flawless," Sebastian says, voice a low rumble, and he doesn't think it's a line, he thinks Sebastian needs him to hear it, understand it, accept his own flaws as part of who he is.

He raises his gaze to Sebastian's slowly, his heart beating fast with a new truth, breathing growing heavier.

"I don't know what this Eli guy was on, but he should never have let you go," Sebastian says, and finally, _finally _someone says it, what his worth is, what he could achieve, that maybe he had his flaws and made his mistakes, but he wasn't worthless as a boyfriend.

He can't release Sebastian's eyes, right here, right now, what else matters?

He leans forward and presses his lips to Sebastian's, drawing in a sharp breath, the small spark of anxiety immediately extinguished when he feels Sebastian's hand on his cheek, puckering his lips against his. It's not like him to act so impulsive, but he's drunk and he's hot and he's young, and so is Sebastian. He pulls at Sebastian's shirt, working their lips together in a quick succession of kisses, gentle but urgent, dizzying.

He pulls back and braces his forehead against Sebastian's, both of them breathing heavy, a tension in their limbs longing for more, a tension they keep under control because neither of them know exactly what this is. But he wants Sebastian, tonight, only if it's one time, he's single and free for the first time in a long time. He digs a hand in Sebastian's hair, tugging gently.

"Blaine, you don't want to do this," Sebastian says, but he doesn't move his hand and doesn't pull back, in fact Sebastian kisses him again, presses a hot kiss to his lips while his body vibrates with heat.

"Yes, I do," he breathes, lost in a confusion of lips and hands. Maybe it's a mistake, but he has a warrant to do something stupid, throw caution to the wind, let loose for a change. "Fuck everything."

At the sound of his words Sebastian draws him closer, licks at his bottom lip before pulling his tongue back, nudging his lips apart with his own. His fingers tighten in Sebastian's hair while his tongue darts out, meeting Sebastian's halfway. He tilts his head, tongue melting into Sebastian's mouth. He could get lost in this, the tentative dynamic of his mouth and Sebastian's, their tongues and hands and bodies, there's no obligation and few expectations, uncomplicated fun.

"Let's get out of here," Sebastian whispers against his lips, pressing one last kiss to his lips before he pulls away.

He gets up on shaky legs, but he doesn't hesitate for a second. Sebastian takes him by the hand, lacing their fingers together, and they're walking again, on their way home this time. They don't speak, laugh at each other when first he and then Sebastian trip over holes in the pavement. They're stumbling up the stairs and shushing each other at three in the morning, and part of him fears it's going to disappear, that once they make it into the apartment their regular lives will come crashing back, alcohol or not, and that he'll think about it too much.

Sebastian fumbles with his keys for a few seconds, but soon they're tiptoeing inside, careful not to wake Cooper. But when he sets foot inside the living room he notices Cooper's bedroom door is open, the rest of the apartment dead silent. _Cooper isn't home_. He hears the door close behind him, Sebastian coming closer, hovering at his back. He doesn't want Sebastian to ask if he wants to do this, afraid the words might strengthen his fear.

But Sebastian doesn't say a word, he simply reaches around his shoulders and removes his jacket, tossing it on the couch. Sebastian's chest connects with his back, lips settling at his temple, the tips of his fingers a soft caress down his arms. He shivers and closes his eyes, leaning back against the expanse of Sebastian's chest.

Sebastian brushes his lips down his neck once he exposes his throat, but it's not enough. He wants it all.

He whirls around and grabs Sebastian by the neck, pulling him down in a kiss, tongues melting together in a long stroke. Sebastian grabs down around his ass, fingers digging in hard, pushing their groins together. He moans into Sebastian's mouth, his body solid and unwavering. What follows is haphazard and clumsy, Sebastian treading them backwards towards the bedroom, hands gripping his ass while his arms are thrown around Sebastian's shoulders, lips locked together.

He isn't sure how they reach the bedroom without falling, but then Sebastian kicks the door shut behind him and he's seized by lust. He releases Sebastian and forces him back against the door roughly, only to crash their mouths together again moments later while his hands reach under Sebastian's shirt, fingers nipping at flawless skin.

Sebastian's shirt comes off and he laps at his skin with his tongue, down his neck, licking and kissing further down, paying special attention to Sebastian's beauty spots, thumbs tracing circles around his nipples. He hasn't done this in months, taken his time with his own or someone else's body–his last few times with Eli had been rushed quickies between his shifts at the hospital, and even though he'd cherished those moments he'd missed the real physicality, the connection that happened between two bodies surrendering to each other.

His shirt joins Sebastian's on the floor and next they're grappling for each other's belts, clasps coming undone, buttons popping and flies unzipping, both of them kicking off their shoes. Sebastian reaches a hand inside his pants, and he gasps, giving Sebastian leave to capture his lips in another kiss.

His legs hit the bed.

"Lie back," Sebastian says, thumbing over his cheekbone.

There's no hesitation: he sits down and takes off his pants while Sebastian heads for the bedside table, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. Sebastian takes off his own pants and crawls onto the bed with him, sitting down between his legs, both only wearing their boxers. He lies down on his back, dragging Sebastian with him; he raises his knees when Sebastian settles between them, rolling his hips to look for more friction, their hard-ons pressed together.

Whatever doubt was left disappears completely, he's too drunk to care and he's too far gone to deny himself this. He doesn't owe anyone anything, except for himself.

Sebastian's lips latch onto his skin, nipping and biting and he's sure there'll be marks in the morning. Sebastian's tongue draws circles around his nipples, fingers coloring lines down his sides.

He feels Sebastian's fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, lips low at his hipbone as he bunches the fabric together and pulls them down and the thought of Eli doesn't even come into the equation, because next thing Sebastian's mouth's on him, licking a line up the length of his cock, setting his skin on fire. He shivers and fists the sheets, Sebastian's lips sucking at his tip, teasing his slit, before taking his cock inch by inch.

He whimpers a long moan, throwing his head back in the mattress, Sebastian working up and down his cock, sucking almost painfully hard, but his mouth's hot, hand palming his balls.

"Oh f-fuck–" he stutters and tangles his fingers in Sebastian's hair, his abdomen tensing with every breath.

He breaks out in a sweat, thoughts scattered and losing coherence, slowly going out of his mind. It's been too long since he's lost control like this, let go of the tight reins of his life, his lust. He knows this isn't love, that they're both beyond making rational decisions. But that doesn't mean it was a bad decision.

Sebastian's hands form in a tight hold around his hips, head bobbing up and down and he's breathing heavy through his nose; his toes curl and the pool of heat in his stomach draws down, his cock twitching in Sebastian mouth and he's close, so incredibly close–

But Sebastian stills his hips, releasing his cock with an audible pop.

His eyes shoot open. "What–" he manages to protest, his hips trying to move but locked under Sebastian's hand, his cock hard and painfully unattended. He whimpers. "_Sebastian_."

"I'm not done with you, killer," Sebastian says, voice hoarse, trailing butterfly kisses up his chest, until he's hovering over him. Sebastian sinks down for another kiss and he can taste himself, a salty mess on Sebastian's tongue. His cock twitches between them.

"Can I–" Sebastian asks, reaching for the lube, an unspoken request to lay himself bare.

"Yes," he breathes, nodding frantically–he and Eli were always versatile, but he prefers this, he prefers to bottom, be left at someone's mercy, trust that the other person has his desires at heart as well.

Sebastian pulls his boxers off and tosses them aside, skimming his own down his hips, Sebastian's erection leaking with precome.

"Give me–" He licks his lips, his mouth dry. "Fuck, give me your cock."

Sebastian teases a finger over his hole, the lube cold against his skin. "You're not ready, Blaine, not–" Sebastian pushes a finger inside, breath hitching at the pleasant stretch. "Fuck," he breathes, working one finger in and out of his ass, not hesitating long before adding a second, the slick slide of his fingers creating filthy noises.

"Sebastian, please," he begs, beyond any reason. "I'm so hot,_ please_."

His chest heaves. He's lost in the steady rhythm of Sebastian's fingers, teasing against his prostate; he writhes on the mattress, going insane with want, his body taut with desire, cock begging for release. He reaches up around Sebastian's neck, the pull down rough and unforgiving. "Just fuck me," he says. "I can take it."

Sebastian's pupils are blown, his eyes dark and brimming with lust. "Turn over," he growls.

He does as he's told without apprehension, he needs Sebastian's cock and he'll take it anyway he can; he turns over, grateful for the level of friction the sheets allow and waits for Sebastian to roll on the condom. It's not long before Sebastian skims a hot palm down his back, kneading at his ass, cock teasing over his hole.

"_Sebastian_," he whines, and he's no sooner called his name or Sebastian's tip is at his hole, pushing at his entrance, pushing inside, easing his cock into his ass inch by painstaking inch.

He cries out along with Sebastian's "_Fuck yes_", the stretch of his ass a slow burn but it hurts better than anything, Sebastian's cock filling him up, a sardonic pleasure surface-racing with the pain. Sebastian stills and kisses his shoulder, his body covering his head to toe. He's trapped, Sebastian a heavy mass on top of him, but it's comforting. It's intimate.

Sebastian raises himself on his arms, making it easier for him to move; he pulls out almost completely, then thrusts back in hard, the shock of it severing any tie he still had with reality. Everything becomes the friction of their bodies, Sebastian's steady and hard thrusts up his ass, fingers leaving bruises on his hips, the maddening feel and slap of Sebastian's skin meeting his.

And he can't stop himself moaning with every thrust, pleasure ripping his body apart, Sebastian losing control over his reactions as well, audible gasps and breathy sighs sinking low in his ear.

"Sebastian, I'm so close," – he fists the sheets hard, clenching his fists, pulling, scratching, crawling – "Touch me," he pleads. "I need you to touch me."

Sebastian doesn't give it a second thought, he leans down over him again and winds a hand around his cock, losing his own rhythm, a sure sign that he's close too.

"Blaine," Sebastian almost wails, fist stroking his cock hard.

"_Yes_," he whimpers, fucking himself into Sebastian's fist and back on his cock, and he falls apart, coming all over the sheets, his body a withering mess beneath Sebastian's.

Sebastian orgasms moments later, hips bucking hard, riding through his release with a few more thrusts, slumping over on top of him. He stretches a hand back and turns his neck, straining to get to Sebastian's lips again. They meet in a wet sloppy kiss, more tongues and teeth than anything else, but they're both too strung out for it to last long.

Sebastian pulls out and melts down next to him, struggling for air and they just lie there, catching their breath, until they both slowly drift off into sleep.

.

.

He wakes up to something moving to his right, shaking him from a restless slumber, his head pounding, eyes hurting behind his eyelids. It takes him long moments to realize that he's not on the couch in the living room, but still butt-naked in Sebastian's bed. He forces his eyes open with great difficulty, the light filtering inside the room needling at his eyes.

Sebastian's sitting upright, a hand covering his eyes, no doubt feeling the consequences of last night's outing as well as him.

He stretches his legs and runs a hand down his chest, only to find his skin rough with dried come, knotted into the hairs on his chest. It's not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be, it'll wash out and right now it brings back memories of his night with Sebastian, the hard touches staving off the heartbreak and hurt, buffering a lifetime of pretending, erasing everything and everyone and overloading his senses.

Last night had been everything he needed it to be.

"Hey, Sebastian!" Cooper's voice echoes too loudly from the living room, and the doorknob shakes when Cooper tries the door. "You'll never believe what just happened."

"Coop," Sebastian calls, but his voice barely audible. It suddenly strikes him that he has no idea whether or not they locked the door and his brother's about to walk in on them. And he's naked. In Sebastian's bed.

Cooper pushes through the door, speaking excitedly. "The meter maid dropped the–Oh shit, I'm sorry," Cooper rambles all in the same breath. He's already halfway out of the room again when he notices who's splayed out in Sebastian's bed.

"Blaine?!"

He groans, feeling around for the covers but not finding them. He sincerely hopes the rest of his body is covered up, because he can't actually feel much beyond his hangover.

"Did you guys have sex?" Cooper asks, as if the answer to that question wasn't blatantly obvious already.

Sebastian sighs, but keeps any answer to himself.

Cooper points at him and smiles,_ smiles_ of all things. He's never thought his brother more ridiculous than right in this moment. "Atta boy," Cooper winks, shakes his head with pride, and leaves the room again lacking any subtlety.

"Please, tell me I'm hallucinating," he says.

"I guess we forgot to lock the door."

He pulls himself up in a sitting position, the room spinning circles around him. Sebastian still has a hand covering one of his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm trying to figure out whether it's the room or me that's spinning," Sebastian answers.

He tries to narrow his eyes on a specific point in the room as well, but nothing will settle. "It's both," he decides. He stares around the room for his boxers, but he can't distinguish them from the heaps of clothing on the floor.

The front door opens and closes.

"Was that–?"

"That was your brother fleeing the apartment to give us space for a repeat performance," Sebastian deadpans, and turns his head to look at him. "Which sounds lovely, killer, but I'm sort of–" He searches for the word. "–dying."

He chuckles, agreeing that a repeat of last night would do more damage than good right now. His body feels utterly wrecked, his head and his stomach, and not to mention his ass, but it's all strangely welcome. At least he feels like he lived.

"You okay?" Sebastian asks, reaching around his back, fingers drawing circles down his spine. "If memory serves, and it usually does, things got pretty rough last night."

He nods. "Just a little sore."

"Go shower," Sebastian commands. "I'll make us my famous hangover remedy."

He waits until Sebastian's somewhat dressed and out of the room before he snatches his boxers off the ground and makes his way into the living room, hastily picking an outfit together from his suitcase. He pads into the bathroom and swallows down a few aspirins, hoping it'll clear away the sharpest pain. He looks at himself in the mirror: his hair's a complete mess, and he can't tell if that happened at the club or in bed later; he has a hickey on his neck and a few on his chest, red marks on his back.

There's one clear bruise on his left hipbone, painful to the touch, but he smiles to himself: it's nothing he didn't want, nothing he didn't ask for last night, and it's nice to have proof that it all happened. Sebastian had told him what he needed to hear, a wake up call that it was time to move on, maybe not let go, but he had to start finding his own way, without Eli, without his brother. He had to learn to make it on his own.

.

After his shower he finds Sebastian half-naked in the kitchen, mixing together an amalgam of things that have turned into a dark green goo. Unlike him, Sebastian doesn't have a mark on him, his skin seemingly untouched, no marks or bruises, not so much as a scratch. He suddenly wonders if Sebastian had as good a time as he had, but he hadn't given him any indication he hadn't, and he's not about to ask either.

He decides it doesn't matter, they had one fun crazy night and there didn't have to be any strings attached. He's much more interested in what Sebastian told him at the park, whether he was speaking from experience or if he really reads people that well. He thinks that kind of insight can only come from people who've lived a life like that, who've pretended for someone else's sake.

"What you said last night," he says, deciding against sitting down. "About pretending to be someone else."

Sebastian turns to face him.

"You weren't just talking about me."

Sebastian grins, managing a surprisingly calm demeanor. "Don't get me wrong, killer, I love my job," he answers, grabbing two glasses from an overhead cupboard. "But I followed in my father's footsteps, and his father's before him."

He's not sure this is what he had in mind when he broached the subject, but it's nice to hear Sebastian opening up to him.

"What do you really want to do?"

"What did you want to do?" Sebastian shoots back, avoiding an immediate answer.

"Teach," he answers lightning-fast, because he's always known that, he wanted to inspire children the way a handful of his own teachers had inspired him_, had saved him_ even, a long time ago. And despite his hangover, despite the distance last night already seems to have taken, that dream still feels closer now.

Sebastian seems surprised at his quick answer because he's smiling, thinking through his own answer. "I like the law," he says. "But the intrigue and the backstabbing–" He shakes his head. "I've always wanted to work in the public defender's office."

He blinks, eyes going wider.

Sebastian eyes him suspiciously. "Does this surprise you?"

"No, it–" He smiles to himself and blushes, though he's not sure why. "It suits you."

Sebastian smiles. "Thanks."

* * *

#

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	4. Present

**WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE**

**part four**

* * *

Living with Cooper becomes intolerable.

Not only does his brother insist on throwing him and Sebastian less-than-subtle glances whenever they so much as laugh at the same joke, he makes it his mission to inform them when he'll be out and when he'll be staying at Sarah's for the night so they can have their privacy. He's grateful for the wide berth of space Cooper gives him, but sadly it only applies whenever Sebastian's around as well.

He's tried telling Cooper that it was a one-time thing, that he and Sebastian were nothing more than friends and given his relationship with Sarah he thought Cooper would understand, but telling Cooper something and having him understand that had never been one and the same thing.

So he starts searching for his own place. He only returns to his old apartment to pack up his things, some of Eli's things already boxed up as well, a visual representation of their separate lives, growing ever more distant.

He gets his cast removed and replaced with a temporary brace, to make sure he doesn't injure it again while he's moving. He thinks he's sufficiently convinced his brother that he didn't try to kill himself, but he still catches Cooper watching him closely whenever it sinks in it's really happening, he's really moving on. He's starting a life without Eli and the thought paralyzes him with fear: he's not sure he knows how to do that.

It takes him a week to find something affordable, a small cardboard box of an apartment which he thinks is perfect, the kitchen annex living area, the one bedroom with a small bathroom. The subway is close by and there's a grocery store down the street for supplies. Cooper tells him it doesn't seem like much, but he knows he can make it his own, all it needs is a fresh coat of paint and some furniture and he'll be set.

Cooper helps him move, and whenever Cooper's tied up he can count on Adam or Jesse or some of his other friends. Sebastian offers his services too, but he's caught up in work most of the time.

It feels good, boxing up his life, taking inventory, getting rid of some of the excess and cutting everything down to the essentials, because all he'll have from now on is himself.

The old apartment is almost empty, the bedroom has been stripped down, the sheets and mattress long gone, sold or donated to charity. He doesn't have room for most of the other furniture so he guesses they'll sell that too.

He packs up the kitchen by himself, as yet untouched by Eli or any of the friends he sends to pack for him. He takes some of the kitchen appliances because he actually knows how to use them, leaves his favorite mug because Eli had gotten it for him on his 22nd birthday, carefully wraps up the dinner set his parents got him when he first moved in.

When the front door opens to the jangle of keys on what he hopes to be his final day of packing, he expects everyone, Rachel or Jesse or even Sebastian, but the last person he expects to round the corner is Eli.

His heart skips a beat, ice rushing through his veins, and he can tell the same happens to Eli. He stands locked in place in the middle of the kitchen, hands wringing around the three plates he's holding, trying to hold himself together.

"Blaine," Eli says, his voice soft, containing awe, or relief, he's not sure. Eli's eyes examine him head to toe, worry getting the best of him. "Adam told me–"

"I didn't try to kill myself," he shoots, taking a half turn away from Eli as he puts the plates down, afraid that he might drop them or crush them with his hands. If Eli honestly believed he tried to kill himself his silence seems even more disconcerting; he could have checked on him sooner. "I–"

"You fell and hit your head," Eli says. "I know."

He looks at his ex-boyfriend, an uncomfortable distance between them for the first time since they met, but Eli stays where he is, he makes no move for his own boxes. He can't figure out what else Eli could possibly want from him. If he knew he didn't try to kill himself, if he purposely ignored his calls and then blocked his number, what else is there to say?

"How are you feeling?" Eli asks.

He closes his eyes and sighs, trying to hide his mounting frustration. His heart hasn't healed enough to act like everything's okay, like Eli hadn't walked out of his life without a second thought. "You should've asked me that two weeks ago," he says, still aching for an explanation. Eli's decision to break up with him couldn't have eliminated all the feelings he once had. "We broke up, I get that, but you could have had the decency to call."

"I'm sorry." Eli stares down at his feet, picking at his fingernails. Not too long ago he would've told Eli to stop doing that. Now he returns his attention to the task at hand, packing up more plates. Eli's apology means nothing to him, not anymore.

"You're moving in with Cooper again?"

"No," he answers, and he's not sure why he feels the need to add "He found himself a really hot roommate" because it sounds childish at best.

Eli releases a breathy laugh and his heart clenches, missing all the times he made Eli laugh like that.

"What's her name?" Eli asks, and takes a step closer, casually leaning his hip against the kitchen counter.

His eyes find Eli's, too close for him to ignore, and he almost doesn't say it. There's a part of him that wants to make Eli jealous, that wants Eli to think he moved on with a great guy, only there's just as big a part of him that wants to consider Eli still needs him.

He swallows hard. "Sebastian," he says, scornfully wishing the hickey on his neck hadn't faded. His feelings can't seem to want to settle, he finds himself torn between going back and wanting to move on, because right now he's stuck and that's no way to go through life.

Eli takes another step closer, reaching a hand for his arm. His first instinct is to pull back, but he can't move.

"I miss you, B," Eli says carefully, voice barely a whisper, and he tries so hard not to feel it, but his skin tingles when Eli touches him, memories of nights cuddled up on the couch with cups of hot chocolate, lazy mornings spent in bed, the brush of hands down soft skin, laughter resounding through the apartment. It's all still there, all still cherished, Eli's loving heart and kindness.

Eli's fingers curl around his arm tentatively, like he knows this could backfire any minute. He doesn't want this temptation, his feelings for Eli remain too strong to ignore.

But then Eli points out exactly what went wrong. "Coming home to an empty–"

He pulls his arm back, and it stops Eli talking. "Coming home to an empty apartment is worse than coming home to an empty relationship?" he asks, the word igniting his anger over that one stupid word, a word Eli had felt compelled to use four weeks ago, and it wasn't fair. Nothing between them was empty, it still wasn't, and it never will be.

Hurt flashes in Eli's eyes, but he won't hear this, how Eli_ misses_ him now that he's gone, that he feels the same absence spooned from his life. It would be easy to tell Eli the truth, how he misses him every day, but he doesn't want to let Eli get away with this as easy as their breakup. He has to be stronger now.

"I loved you, Eli." He grits his teeth together, holding back tears. "And maybe it wasn't perfect and maybe I should have stood up for myself, but I would've given you everything."

"You did," Eli says, his voice hopeful now, as if somehow him knowing that makes it all okay.

To him it only feels like Eli puts the blame on him. And maybe it was his fault, maybe he was too lenient, gave too much without expecting anything back. But even if he gives in things would never be the same as before, Eli saw to that. He doesn't want to go back to a relationship where he'd only question himself.

"Yes, I did," he says, and tapes up the last part of his life here. "It's time I did something for myself." He grabs the box and faces Eli, the words coming no easier, harder even, but he knows he has to sever his ties to his old life if he plans on starting anew.

"Goodbye, Eli," he says, the look on Eli's face breaking his heart all over again, the thought that he's the one doing this to them now leaving him weak. But he holds his ground, pushes past Eli and out of the kitchen, somehow managing to make it to the door without his legs giving out.

It's only when he's behind the wheel of Cooper's car, slamming the door shut behind him, that his body catches up with him. A sob rips through him and he cries out, doubling over against the wheel, a hand over his stomach. It hurts more than it did before, his heart in pieces, thoughts replete with all the could-have-dones and should-have-beens, but it's more cathartic. Now he knows what he's letting go, now he's the one walking away.

And he's not going to look back.

.

.

He drags the dishcloth over the table's surface to get rid of any grease stains and remaining food, picking up the last traces of napkins and sugar wrappers. Friday nights are always the worst, the restaurant packed with patrons, Terri barking orders, customers barking orders, and him and his fellow waiters struggling to keep up.

His tables are empty somewhere around eleven, and he knows from experience no one will come in to eat anymore–he'll be able to go home early. His first week back had been a little touch-and-go, apparently the news of his accident had travelled and it took some convincing before everyone accepted he was fine, both mentally and physically.

Now his third week back everything had fallen back into place, the same people with the same routine. It's harder this time around, Eli was right that going home to an empty apartment felt strange and disconcerting and there are a lot of nights where he misses Eli more than anything. But he knows that'll pass eventually. He surrounds himself with his friends and Cooper and he manages, slowly crawling his way out of a pit of heartbreak.

"All done?" Tina asks as he makes his way over to the bar.

He nods.

"Lucky," Tina adds, and stares at two of her own tables in despair. "I'm stuck with Hummel and his artsy friends."

"Waiter!" the offending customer calls, followed by a quick succession of fingers snapping.

He hates it when customers do this, as if somehow the food will get there faster or it'll light a fire underneath the cook's feet. Kurt Hummel usually arrives early enough to occupy two of his tables, they're closer to the window and allow him and his friends to comment on innocent passers-by, but no such luck tonight. He feels sorry that Tina has to deal with them instead.

"_Waiter_," he teases, mimicking Kurt's high-pitched voice, and snaps his fingers as inconspicuously as he can manage. It earns him a smile from Tina, before she drags herself over to the company to take additional orders.

He makes his way into the kitchen, where the cooks have prepared him a take-away meal, and starts untying his apron. He can't wait to go home, no more obligations or responsibilities to tend to, all he wants is some food, a hot shower, and then crash hard.

Maybe he should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Terri walks into the kitchen, still energetic and composed as if she hadn't been on her feet as long as the rest of them–many of the staff are convinced she's taking performance enhancers.

"Blaine, you're not going anywhere," she says.

"My shift's over." He sighs, and his feet start aching harder in complaint. "My tables are empty."

Terri crosses her arms over her chest, a sure sign he'll get nowhere in this discussion. "But Tina's and Sugar's aren't."

"That's okay." Tina joins them in the kitchen to pass on her orders. "We don't need any help."

Terri takes a step closer to both of them and raises her voice, catching the attention of the cooks and the other waiters. "These are loyal customers who leave you all very good tips," Terri says, pointing at them. "None of you are going home until they're finished."

A collective groan spreads through the room, silenced immediately when Terri's gaze travels over everyone's faces. This isn't the first time Terri's made everyone stay while one or two waiters work, it's a way for her to establish a hierarchy where she's the sole ruler, but she's never made anyone wait for Hummel and his friends. Kurt comes here every Friday night without fail, and stays to order drinks well past midnight.

This was going to be excruciating.

"Maybe we could poison her tea," Sugar suggests around 1 am, clutching her hands around his arm frantically. Most of them have been working since the lunch shift and no amount of caffeine is enough to stave off the exhaustion. They're all dead on their feet, except for Terri–it isn't the first time they've plotted her death.

"There are tasteless poisons, you know," Sam chimes in. "I saw that on National Geographic."

"We can't," he says, even though he's tempted to become Sam's and Sugar's accomplice. He'd hoped Terri would've gone a little easier on him once he returned, but she worked him just as hard as before. She hadn't even mentioned the overtime she still owed him. "We still need our paychecks this week."

Sugar and Sam groan in frustration, but hurry behind him when he moves to help Tina with some plates. By the time Kurt Hummel and his friends leave and they get through the cleanup it's 2.30 in the morning, and they've all been covering for Sugar, who passed out in the back an hour earlier.

"See, that wasn't too hard, was it?" Terri joins the rest of them in the kitchen after closing time, where most of them are slumped against a table or seated on the floor. "The customers are happy, I'm happy. Everyone's happy."

Sam puffs his cheeks and releases a breath, but none of them say a word. They all know if they ride this out quietly they'll be going home soon, home to bed or an actual meal, home to pets, boyfriends or girlfriends. Some of them will even be going home to homework.

But then Terri decides to throw in something new: "It's not like any of us have someone waiting at home."

He'll never fully understand what makes him say it, what makes him turn around and refuse to take yet another insult from a boss who has done nothing but berate her staff since he started working here, but something inside him snaps.

"You're a really horrible person, you know that?" he spits.

Terri blinks. "Excuse me?" she asks, Sugar adding a quiet 'oh my God' that's written on everyone's faces.

He takes a step closer to Terri, a little voice at the back of his mind whispering that he might as well have signed his own death warrant, but he's done playing nice. She can't keep saying things like this to them, insult and command as she pleases, and he won't take it anymore. He's too tired.

"I have hated every single day of working here, and it's all because of you," he says, encouraged by the steady beat of his heart and something Sebastian said weeks ago. He doesn't like this job, he took it because Eli talked him into it, a stalemate for his own happiness because Eli's mattered more to him. "Maybe if you looked to your own happiness you wouldn't spend your days making our lives miserable."

The room has gone dead silent, all eyes turned to him and Terri, and a quiet fear permeates the air around them.

"How dare you talk to me like that?" Terri's eyes go wide.

"I don't work here anymore," he says, taking a step closer and he can't help but think his statement would be more powerful if he was actually taller than Terri.

But his decision remains all the same.

"I quit," he says decisively, takes off his apron and tosses it on the floor. He lingers for another few seconds, curious to see what defence Terri might offer against this, but his boss remains silent. Everyone remains silent.

No one follows him out of the kitchen or into the backroom, where he quickly packs his things together – some toiletries and a fresh outfit, a juice box and some gum and a long lost book he started reading during his breaks – it all fits neatly into yet another box, the life he forced himself to have here.

Tina corners him at the back exit. "Blaine, what did you just do?" she asks. "You need this job."

"No, what I need is to get away from toxic people like Terri Del Monico," he says, mentally adding Eli to that list too. God, how had he been so blind? His entire life was arranged around making other people happy, never catering to his own happiness first. He owed it to himself to quit this job.

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugs, still too angry to think straight. "Find a new job, and_–_"

It's been a long time coming, but he owes it to himself to focus on his own hopes and dreams now.

He looks at Tina. "I'm going back to school."

.

.

"Oh, it's adorable," is the first thing out of Adam's mouth when he lays eyes on his new apartment. Adam quickly makes his way through the few rooms, wording his approval along the way.

He smiles, grateful that his breakup with Eli hasn't lost him Adam's friendship–Adam had been spending more and more of his free time with him instead of Eli, and there's a part of him that thinks he should address it, should tell Adam it's okay to chose sides, Eli and him were friends first after all. But a stronger side of him values Adam's friendship far too much to risk making such a comment in the first place. Because just like Sebastian, Adam understands what he's going through.

He knows he shouldn't have shut his friends out, but he'd retreated into his brother's care without much rational thought, far away from an old life that had chunks missing and he couldn't quite make it all fit together again without taking a step back. The time away had made him realize he'd never lose those closest to him, his family and friends would always be there to embrace him again. He and Eli were never really friends, they'd started and ended as lovers with mercilessly little in between.

"Thank you for doing this," he says, while they unearth a few cans of paint from under the sink in the kitchen for the task at hand.

His bedroom was already decorated and furnished, painted to his satisfaction floor to ceiling, new curtains and shutters in place. The living room was an entirely different matter; the walls are currently a very unappealing shade of green, some of the paint faded in places where older furniture had once stood. The new color he'd chosen was a soft beige, which would accentuate the dark colors of his new furniture.

"You look good," Adam says, helping him cover his recently delivered sofa with a sheet for protection.

He shrugs. "I feel–better," he says, because 'good' is still a relative term considering the drastic turn his life has taken these past few weeks. It's easy to say it's good for him, that it was time for a change and a new focus, but his life had been stable for four years and he had trouble finding his footing. He'll be paying his own bills now, starting school again and searching for a new job. If he was being honest with himself, he'd have to admit he'd never been more scared in his life.

"Will you be okay on your own?" Adam asks, somehow picking up on his train of thought.

"I need to do this for myself," he says, which he's sure Adam understands. He's never lived on his own. He went from living at home with his parents to living with his brother, to living with Eli, and he'd never questioned that dependency until it disappeared. As far as changes went, it was all new to him, and 'okay' was another relative term for something he hadn't had time to settle on just yet. But he thinks he can get there, given enough time. He can get to _okay_ and _good_ and maybe even something better.

Adam's eyes narrow on him playfully, a smile sliding to a corner of his mouth. "That Sebastian must have been quite something."

He chuckles. He doesn't need to ask who told Adam. "_Cooper_."

"Actually, Cooper told Rachel, who told Jesse, who then told me," Adam explains. He turns to Adam, his eyes going wide. Did all his friends hear about his night of debauchery? Adam scrunches his nose in apology. "Sorry."

He huffs a laugh, choosing not to comment on his brother's blatant intrusion of his privacy.

"Don't be too hard on him," Adam adds. "Your brother's a perfectly lovable psycho."

They lay out old newspapers across the floor, and start covering the green wall with a white base coat. They're about half an hour in before Adam's curiosity gets the best of him, a much more endearing quality in Adam than it is in Cooper.

"So tell me about him," Adam says.

He shakes his head, failing to hide another smile.

"I haven't had any action in ages," Adam adds, and purses his lips in a pout that's entirely too adorable. "Let me live vicariously through you."

"It was a one time thing," he says, never having felt the need to talk about his sexual exploits before. Any talk about his sex life took place within each relationship and wasn't something he flaunted or bragged about to others. But maybe now he has reason to, his time with Sebastian had been more than fun, it'd been crazy and oddly confrontational. He'd been at the whim of others for far too long and Sebastian had shown him a way out of that, if only for one night. It had been a push in the right direction.

"We had fun," he says with a half-shrug, eyes concentrated on the wall in front of him, reluctant to divulge every detail of a night that had become very special to him, not only the sex, but the conversation, Sebastian's understanding of feelings he was still trying to disentangle himself. He'd come to the conclusion that somewhere in his past Sebastian had gotten his heart broken too, and that whatever happened had either closed him off to new relationships, or had made him very intent never to repeat the same mistakes.

He's not sure he wants to end up the same way. He likes to think that when he does get over Eli, he'll be open to something new.

"You quit your job, got your own place. You're going back to school," Adam sums up, dragging the paint roller down the wall in one smooth stroke. "Sounds like more than a little fun."

"It was a crazy drunken night." He shrugs, and tries his best not to focus on the memories too much. But he still remembers it well, Sebastian's lips on his undemanding, hot hands skimming down his skin while his fingers left marks, the maddening sense of losing grip on reality. "And the sex was_–_" He sighs, not sure there's a word that can comprise it all. "Memorable."

Adam smirks. "Do you think I could get his number?"

"Why don't you ask Cooper?" he jokes.

Adam giggles, but doesn't ask again.

They spend the rest of the day the same way, painting while updating each other on their lives, and they settle down in front of the television with some take-out once all the work is done. And as he goes to bed that night, his arms aching from overuse, he imagines he can do this, he can dedicate his life to himself, to his own hopes and dreams, to his friendships without any boyfriends coming into play for a while.

.

.

The text comes in at seven on a Sunday morning. He's already up, sitting at the kitchen table, going over a mountain of paperwork for his enrolment at NYU. His phone buzzes three times before he takes notice, and when he finally checks he doesn't recognize the number. He knows immediately who it's from though.

_Code red._

_Come over ASAP._

_S._

It's been weeks since Sebastian left him that note on Cooper's front door, but the shorthand is instantly familiar. He grabs his jacket, phone and wallet and he's out the door within minutes, assuming Sebastian's message has something to do with his brother. He types in a hasty message while he hightails for the nearest subway station.

_On my way. _

_Be there in ten._

_B. _

He arrives a little under ten minutes later, climbing two steps at a time on his way upstairs, and he's out of breath by the time he knocks on the apartment door, his calves burning. The door opens within seconds to the sight of a visibly distressed Sebastian and he's left to wonder what could be going on with his brother that Sebastian couldn't fix himself.

"Thank God you're here," Sebastian breathes, dressed in a shirt and his boxers, his hair a tousled mess.

"What's going on?" he asks, tone rushed and urgent as he pushes past Sebastian into the flat, only then realizing it's very early in the morning, and Cooper was probably still sleeping. So is this even about his brother?

"He's been like this since yesterday." Sebastian answers. "He won't leave his room."

"Wh–" He spins on his heels. His first instinct is to ask 'Is he twelve?' but it sounds like something that runs in the Anderson family whenever things get too hard. After all, he did lock himself up for a week after Eli broke up with him. "Did something happen with Sarah?"

"They had another fight." Sebastian shrugs, seemingly still clueless about the exact details of what happened. "Sarah stormed out in tears."

"So they broke up," he says. It hits him harder than he expected, the thought that Cooper's going through the same thing he went through, the same thing he still goes through in his loneliest moments even though it's been two months now. He's not sure what Sebastian expects him to do, anything he tells Cooper would make him sound like a hypocrite,

"I have no idea," Sebastian says. "I thought she felt the same way, but–" He shakes his head, shrugging again.

Up until now he'd accepted the same thing, that Sarah and Cooper were in denial about how they really felt about each other and would realize that eventually. Maybe they'd both been wrong.

"I tried talking to him, but he closed his door and told me to leave him alone."

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware that it's only been a day, maybe no more than a few hours even. If Cooper broke up with Sarah he knows exactly how his brother's feeling, lost, confused, _hurt_, and there will be little he can do to get him out of that room.

He stalks closer to the door and puts his ear against the dark wood. "Coop, it's me," he says, trying the handle but the door seems to be unlocked. "I'm coming in, okay?" he calls, and without giving his brother the chance to answer he pushes through the door, entering Cooper's bedroom lacking permission, but he doubts he would've gotten it.

Cooper's sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands buried in his hair; he's still fully clothed and the bed's still made. Cooper hasn't slept at all.

He walks over, leaving the door open, and sits down next to his brother. "Coop, what happened?" he asks softly.

Cooper takes a deep breath, lowering his hands to stare at them, and chuckles scornfully. "She wants to be with me," he says, his voice lacking inflection. "She wants us to be exclusive."

He frowns to himself, casting a quick glance at Sebastian, who's standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "Then why are you in here–"

"She's moving to LA in two weeks," Cooper says. "She got a job offer at some independent production company."

He casts down his eyes, suddenly understanding why Cooper's secluded himself to his room rather than spending his remaining time with Sarah. She must have asked him to come with her. And leaving New York would mean leaving everything behind in pursuit of a relationship, giving up his life here for someone else. This is his fault, he thinks, if he hadn't pointed out the kinks in Cooper's relationship he might not have doubted himself.

"You could consider going with her," Sebastian's voice sounds behind him.

He looks up at Sebastian in surprise. Every time he thinks he has Sebastian figured out he discovers another side to him that always seems to be paying attention. For a guy who's in and out of this apartment and focused on work all the time, Sebastian knows things about his brother he thought only he knew.

Cooper looks up at Sebastian too. "Move to LA," he huffs. "For her."

The added 'for her' cuts through him like a razorblade, because not too long ago a similar 'for him' fell from Cooper's lips as an accusation. But Cooper can't equate their relationships, Cooper can't equate himself to his little brother.

"It's not the craziest notion," Sebastian says, crossing his arms over his chest.

He suppresses a smile. "You've been talking about LA for years, Coop," he says, remembering how Cooper's dream to become an actor had been there for as long as he can remember. Cooper stuck to New York because it was safe and stable, another trait they inherited from their mother and failed to shed when faced with the magnitude of their dreams. New York was good enough for Cooper. Eli was good enough for him. "It wouldn't be just for her."

Cooper scratches the back of his head. "I don't know, Blaine."

He raises a hand to Cooper's shoulder, unsure of how to handle this side of his brother. It's strange, but he's never really seen his brother struggle with his love life. He's seen Cooper date a few women these past few years, but none of those were as serious as Sarah, which was ironic given how they'd chosen to define their relationship. Still, he hates to think that Cooper's hesitating because he saw what happened to him and Eli. Cooper's nothing like him, nor is Sarah anything like Eli–they could make things work if they'd both be willing to make some concessions.

"You love her," he finally says, even though sometimes love isn't enough–but what's the point in love if not surrender from time to time, if not a little self-sacrifice, making room for another person in your life without completely losing track of your own. It was about balance, something he had yet to learn.

"I do." Cooper nods, his blue eyes shining. He can't remember the last time he saw his brother cry. "I really do."

He squeezes Cooper's shoulder. "Then don't lose her."

It's riddled all across Cooper's face, the fear and doubt he's all too familiar with, followed by the emerging realization that he does love Sarah, he swallowed all this open relationship crap _for her_, and following her to LA would be more than that. It would be _for them_.

He stares at his brother for what feels like an eternity, and somewhere in that infinity-stare he considers that Eli gave up on them, on him, stopped loving him or no longer deemed them worth fighting for. And he shouldn't settle for that. He deserved better than Eli.

He wants something to fight for.

"I gotta go," Cooper says, and gets up, hesitating a few seconds longer before his decision becomes final. He offers a brief "Thanks, man" to Sebastian when he passes him in the doorway and it's mere seconds before they hear the front door open and close, Cooper in pursuit of something he's dying to have.

He huffs a laugh to himself, because at the end of the day his brother will always seem just a little ridiculous to him, but he's happy they have this unspoken bond that ensures his advice will be heard.

He stalks over to where Sebastian's frowning rather dumbfounded. Cooper's never needed a whole lot of talking to, unlike him Cooper made decisions quickly, recklessly perhaps, but he did see them through once he made them.

"Thanks for texting me," he says. Now that he's alone with Sebastian it all comes rushing back, the short talks they had while doing the dishes, the non-judgmental almost flirty glances Sebastian threw his way, their conversation that one night in the park... He shakes his head. He has to let this go, they had a good time, but it wasn't anything more than that. It would be a mistake to want to be with the first guy who showed him any kind of attention after his breakup.

"You're his brother," Sebastian says. "If anyone was going to get through to him it's you."

He can't help it though, he likes Sebastian, and he'd really like to be his friend.

"Do you have siblings?" he asks, curious about Sebastian's family–he's never talked about them before.

Sebastian nods. "I have a sixteen year old half brother." He shrugs and pads back into the living room. "But we're not very close."

Before he gets the chance to ask Sebastian more about his family the door to his bedroom opens and Nick emerges, busy tucking his shirt back into his pants. He's not surprised to see Nick here, but whatever part of him that believed in real relationships or maybe just the part of him that likes Sebastian, feels a dark pang of guilt course through him. Had Sebastian told Nick about their night together? Or did they have the kind of relationship where full disclosure wasn't necessary?

"Bas, I think I'll just go," Nick says, shrugging on his jacket.

"Yeah, okay," Sebastian acknowledges, but only glances up fleetingly, and he suddenly wonders what that girl Santana had meant when she warned Sebastian to mind his boundaries. He's the one who crossed the lines that night, with a little help from a few beers and a handful of shots, but Sebastian had tried to warn him off, told him 'you don't want to do this', even though the warning was weak and followed by another foray across the line.

Santana said to be careful with Sebastian's gingerbread heart, only reaffirming that Sebastian had been hurt in the past and shielded himself off from relationships that could be meaningful. Was that why he clung to Nick, something casual instead of something that could get him hurt, why he'd first warned him but gave into one night with him anyway?

It didn't matter if it was something Sebastian did often, he hadn't kissed Sebastian because it was safe or because he wanted a boyfriend. He wanted to feel free. He has no reason to assume that Sebastian slept with a different guy every night–he seemed pretty taken with Nick, and whatever happened between them was a heat of the moment thing.

He doesn't know why that thought fills him with regret.

"Blaine–" Sebastian's voice brings him back to reality.

"Don't," he interrupts, before he's even sure Sebastian's about to address the fact that Nick was still around despite their crazy night together. He's not jealous. He has no reason to. "We had fun, right?"

"Yeah," Sebastian breathes, frowning to himself, and it does nothing to convince him that he ventured into territory there was no need to talk about.

But he keeps talking nonetheless, maybe to convince himself that it's a good thing to let Sebastian go his separate way, rather than make their night together into something it wasn't. "You're the first person I never had to pretend to," he says. "So we shouldn't make it out to be more than it was."

Sebastian smiles, the curl of his lips slow and languid. "Godspeed, Blaine Anderson."

.

.

Cooper moves to LA.

Just as he'd expected it's a decision he makes quickly, but neither of them think he'll live to regret it. Their mother has a few things to say about it, about her boys living on different coasts and how would they organize getting together during the holidays, but he and Cooper merely have a good laugh at their mother's expense, before hugging her tight, and assuring her she's not losing either of them. Nor are they losing each other as brothers.

If anything it only strengthens their bond. Cooper calls or emails with updates once or twice a week, Sarah often talking or shouting in the background, and they Skype quite often too.

He loses track of Sebastian–he searches for another place to stay after Cooper moves and leaves a forwarding address, but it would be weird to show up on his doorstep or text him out of the blue. Maybe it's an idiotic thought padded with the confusion over his feelings for Sebastian, but he wants to know what it's like to be on his own, no relationship, no boyfriend, not even casual sex for that matter.

And he goes back to school, enrolls in the same program he'd started years ago, so that keeps him busy. It feels strange to be back, to be around eighteen year olds fresh out of high school or twenty year olds who'd gotten their BAs and were vigorously continuing their studies. It's hard to imagine he was once like them at all, but he gets into the swing of things soon enough.

He finds a job at the school's counselling center, some practical hands-on experience that will only help him in the long run and will look good on his resumé. He meets new people and they merge with his other friends and somehow the holes previously missing from his life fill up. Rachel tries setting him up a few times, but he's not interested nor does he have the time.

But the more time passes by, weeks blurring into months, the more he settles into a new routine he knows is good for him, the more he thinks there will always be something missing without a boyfriend. It's not an indulgence, it's not selfish or stupid or even co-dependent. He likes having someone around to take care of, someone he can cuddle with on the couch, and he doesn't think there's anything wrong with that. He's changed for the better, he's learned things about himself and his life.

And now he'd really like to share that life with someone.

.

.

He's practically running by the time he makes it to the coffee shop, the leather strap of his shoulder bag digging deep into his skin because it's loaded with books. Eli had called him three days ago, asking if they could meet because there was still paperwork they needed to go through in order to separate their lives for good. He couldn't help but wonder how long Eli had been sitting on this opportunity to see him again, abiding his time so that he'd be ready.

Because Eli picked the location on purpose, a coffee shop not unlike the one they met, and he thinks maybe Eli means to rekindle the love they lost months ago. It's not the most unappealing thought, there's some part of him that will always love Eli and he's learned to look back on their time together with fondness. But he won't go in blind again, and he still hasn't forgiven Eli for that one word, that one stupid word. _Empty_. It's that word that keeps him at a distance, that stopped him from inviting Eli over to his apartment instead. Without that word they might've worked things out.

Eli's still waiting in line for their coffees when he pushes through the door–he looks good, though sleep deprived as usual and he cherishes how normal it feels to look at his ex-boyfriend, how it no longer fills him with pain or panic or despair, but it's like looking at any other guy. It makes him realize that if these past few months have accomplished anything at all it's that he moved on from Eli. He's let go, and where once that thought would've struck him with a fear that he'd never find anything as good again, it now assures him that he's ready for something new. Someone new even.

He's so focused on Eli and his own train of thought that he doesn't notice the body coming his way before it's too late. He runs face first into a total stranger in the middle of a coffee shop, their bodies colliding hard, and he's already cursing his own stupidity. Until he looks up.

"Sebastian?" his eyes go wide once he recognizes the face staring down at him.

"Blaine?" Sebastian asks in turn, a slow grin opening up his face. It's still as mesmerizing as the first time he saw it.

He watches Sebastian take in his whole appearance, and it's flattering to say the least.

"What are you doing here?" Sebastian adds.

"I'm meeting Eli," he says too fast, too stunned to think straight. He adds a shrug, hoping to show that the meeting's no big deal and he hasn't crawled back to his ex-boyfriend. But some hint of sadness touches Sebastian's face when he casts down his eyes, and he feels compelled to say more. "He just needs my signature for something. We had a joint bank account."

"I wasn't–" Sebastian shakes his head and finds his eyes, his hesitation cautious but mostly curious. It reminds him of their last conversation in his brother's apartment, the quiet implication that there were subjects in their lives that didn't need explaining. But for some reason he wants Sebastian to know he and Eli are over.

"Did you raid a library or something?" Sebastian eyes his shoulder bag.

He thinks Sebastian's change in subject is curious too. "Yeah no," – he laughs at his own awkwardness – "I went back to school."

Sebastian smiles, and he feels his shoulders relax. "Good for you."

A similar smile pull at his lips, and he only finds distraction in studying Sebastian's outfit–he's not dressed in his usual suit-and-tie, he's wearing a denim jacket over a plaid shirt and looks almost like a country boy. "You have a day off?"

"No," Sebastian answers, staring down at his own clothes. "I decided to take my own advice."

His eyes find Sebastian's, his heart skipping a beat for some reason. "You quit your job?" he asks, an unexpected sense of pride washing over him. He knows Sebastian loved his job, the work he did rewarding enough to tough through fighting bosses and backstabbing office politics. But he walked away to follow his own dream.

Sebastian shrugs. "It made my dad happy, not me."

It's only then that he considers maybe he wasn't the only one struggling and Sebastian's seeming togetherness could easily have been a disguise for a life he was desperately trying to figure out. Maybe Sebastian had needed a drastic change too. He's not foolish enough to think he was the reason Sebastian took this step, but it's nice to think he gave Sebastian a push in the right direction.

"B!" he hears Eli call behind him, and for the first time in forever he wishes Eli gone. Eli has no place between him and Sebastian.

"I uh– I gotta run," he says, averting his eyes, shuffling an awkward step backwards.

"Hey." Sebastian reaches out a hand, but doesn't touch him. "What are you doing later?"

He blinks up at Sebastian.

"I want to take you out."

"Like last time?" he asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously, but really he hates how hopeful his heart turns that this could be about something more than sex. He finds it hard to believe he left a lasting impression on Sebastian and even if he did, what about Nick?

"Tempting." Sebastian smiles. "But no," he adds, taking an exciteful step closer. "A real date," he says, waking something in him that was tempted by Sebastian from the start. "Dinner, movie, walk under a moonlit sky."

He reels at Sebastian's proposition, thoughts racing a million miles an hour. Sebastian's grinning at him now and he swallows hard, the smile irresistible and Sebastian's excitement infectious. He can't believe Sebastian actually wants this. Sebastian wouldn't ask him out if Nick was still in the picture, he wouldn't ask if he didn't want to go out with him, and he definitely wouldn't ask if he didn't genuinely like him.

What could be the harm? It's one date with a guy he's come to see as a friend and who had actually treated him like a real person. Sebastian hadn't walked on eggshells around him, hadn't told him to let go or move on, but hadn't talked around the pain either. So why not?

"What do you say?" Sebastian asks, his tone hopeful.

"S-sure," he says, wishing the word hadn't come out in an uncertain stutter. He's not the same guy he was four years ago, not the naive boy who'd never taken any agency in his relationship, he stopped being that boy the moment Eli broke up with him. Sebastian had never met that boy.

They set a date for that same night and his stomach becomes one nervous flutter, the same mix of excitement and terror spooling together. He hasn't dated in ages, but he likes Sebastian.

"See you later, killer." Sebastian winks and smiles, and he blushes deep, feeling his cheeks burn hot. He hasn't felt this way in a very long time, had feared himself incapable up until this moment.

He watches until Sebastian has made his way out of the coffee shop, turning his phone over in his hands a few times.

Sebastian likes him too.

He smiles, biting his bottom lip, his head halfway in the clouds as he settles down at a table opposite Eli. The papers Eli needs him to sign are placed on the table between them, pen waiting on top.

"Who's he?" Eli asks, unable to hide a hint of jealousy.

"Sebastian," he answers, and in Eli's eyes he sees the hint of disappointment, as if he thinks he latched on to the first person who paid him attention after their breakup and it's right in the Blaine Anderson playbook: getting affectively and intensely attached to someone, give himself over to a new relationship without taking care of himself.

But he thinks he'll take his chances.

* * *

#

**if you can, please let me know what you think!**


	5. Future

**WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE**

**part four**

* * *

Their first date is exactly what Sebastian promised it would be. He takes him out to dinner, nothing too fancy, and he's the perfect gentlemen; Sebastian pulls out his seat for him at the table, insists on paying for their meal, holds the doors open for him. They talk about everything that's been going on in their lives these past few months, when and how Sebastian quit his job (a far less entertaining story than his, Sebastian says), how he spent a few weeks figuring out his options and ended up in the private sector again, but at a smaller firm with more potential for growth. Apparently Sebastian's father was none too happy about his decision, but he gets the feeling that Sebastian got tired of following his father's path years ago.

Afterwards they head to the movies, and he breaks his own rule about talking during the picture. Sebastian sits close and on occasion their hands brush when they're both reaching for the popcorn. It's what every first date should feel like, a little awkward but the more time passes the more they relax into it.

Once they're outside again they start their walk home and Sebastian takes him by the hand, lacing their fingers together. He's struck by the strange thought that Sebastian could probably do this with anyone, girls even, like that girl Santana at the club.

"What's on your mind?" Sebastian asks, picking up on his moment's distraction.

He looks up to meet Sebastian's eye and he's not sure he can just ask, what if it's a sore spot like the word 'empty' will always be to him. But the way Santana had said it, _be careful with this one, no one gets to this gingerbread heart without earning it first_, made him think there was a story he should know.

"What did Santana mean that night?" he asks, because he can't already start tiptoeing around core truths that make them who they are. "Why should I be careful with you?"

Sebastian averts his eyes and thinks through his answer for a few seconds, not encouraging his daring streak. "She knew my ex," Sebastian answers. "He uhm–" Sebastian frowns to himself and comes to a halt, body turning towards him, their hands still locked.

"He was a hard guy to love," Sebastian says, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I tried, but–" Sebastian loses himself in thought, and it does nothing to steady his nerves. He doesn't want to dredge this all up during their first date, what was he thinking?

Sebastian shrugs. "He was just a hard guy to love."

"I'm sorry," he says, giving Sebastian's hand a light squeeze.

"Don't be. It's a fair question." Sebastian's eyes finally find his again. "Besides," he says. "You should know what you're getting yourself into."

Sebastian throws an arm around his shoulder and presses a kiss to his temple and he swears to God his toes curl in his loafers. He loves that this hasn't changed, that Sebastian's still easy-going and laid-back around him, that there's little awkwardness to speak of now that they're semi officially dating.

He'll find out much later that Sebastian's ex struggled with his sexuality, that their relationship was cloak-and-dagger most of the time despite Sebastian's best efforts to assure him that the world wasn't nearly as mean as people made it out to be. He never pegged Sebastian for the kind of guy to date someone who was still closeted, but he's all too aware that love's a funny thing and you can't always choose who you fall in love with.

Sebastian walks him home and insists on seeing him all the way to his front door, where a goodnight kiss quickly turns into a full-on make-out session and before he knows it he wants this more than ever. He doesn't think either of them had planned to rush into things, but Sebastian still feels like such a solid soothing mass against him, all hard muscle but informed with tenderness, and he realizes he's been lonely for this physicality. He opens the door without releasing Sebastian's lips, they stagger backwards into his dark apartment, only they hit so many things along the way that Sebastian buckles and asks him exactly how small his apartment is.

He chuckles, excessively proud of his tiny but comfortable apartment, and turns on the lights. This time it does mostly disappear, his despair for a connection they already have, and Sebastian seems to realize the same, maybe because they're sober this time around, or they know they're in no hurry.

"You want a drink?" he asks, and unearths two beers from the fridge.

"Beer?" Sebastian smiles. "I think I may be a bad influence on you, killer."

"I'm a college student now," he says, closing the distance between them again as he hands Sebastian his drink, clinking the two bottles together. "I'm supposed to drink beer."

They settle down on the couch and fall into more easy conversation, mostly about their hobbies this time. He tells Sebastian about his passion for teaching, how it was inspired by his high school history teacher, Mr Simmons, who pushed him to be a better version of himself without losing track of his goals–Mr Simmons was his salvation after bullies at his old school almost destroyed him. He's been thinking about Mr Simmons a lot these past few months, if he'd be disappointed to hear how he'd effaced himself in his relationship with Eli.

Sebastian tells him he was a lacrosse player his entire high school career and he probably could've gone pro, but despite his father he did have a passion for the law and headed to Harvard. He learns Sebastian won several show choir awards, but doesn't make him serenade him just yet. He finds out Sebastian's parents got divorced when he was eight, and from the way he talks about his mom he gathers Sebastian cherishes her very much. Sebastian isn't close to his half-brother Ryder, but he thinks part of Sebastian regrets that, and it makes him realize how lucky he is that he and Cooper do get along despite their age difference.

"I should go," Sebastian says as the night draws to a close. "It's getting pretty late."

He checks his watch and notices how it's well past midnight. His morning class will be excruciating, but at least he won't regret the reason.

He walks Sebastian to the door, where he reaches up for another kiss, a hand around Sebastian's neck pulling him down and his stomach flutters at the way Sebastian melts down against him, how he makes himself fit to his smaller frame and thumbs along his jawline, lips pressing unthinkingly against his.

Sebastian pulls back and he thinks he's about to say something, but Sebastian only keeps staring down at him.

"What?" he asks, his cheeks burning with self conscious thought.

Sebastian huffs a small laugh before his green eyes turn playfully serious. "I have it bad for you, killer."

He can't even pretend a modest smile, a grin breaks out across his face and his stomach starts doing backflips. He thinks he's had it bad for Sebastian for a while now, but it's the first time he admits it to himself.

"Call me."

Sebastian nods. "I will."

He closes the door, turns and leans back against the wood, his head meeting the hard surface in a dull thud. He has it really bad, and he doesn't care what Eli thinks, this isn't some desperate attempt at finding something new. He's not settling for Sebastian. Sebastian's going to be a challenge.

.

.

Weeks later he will muster up the courage to ask Sebastian why he's the one who managed to get to his gingerbread heart, after it seemed he'd decided never to let anyone in again. Sebastian will answer that he loves without reserve, that he opens his heart completely and maybe naively so, but that he's the kind of person he should be with, not someone closed off and scared.

Sebastian will also add that he has a great ass.

He'll wonder if Sebastian is with him because he's easy to love, but when Sebastian asks him if there's a problem he'll shake his head no, because it might feel somewhat problematic, but deep down he knows he's dating Sebastian because he's not Eli, Sebastian's not careful around him and he doesn't let him off easy and he shows his appreciation for the little things.

And he'll decide that maybe it isn't problematic after all. Sebastian isn't Eli and he isn't Sebastian's ex and that's what makes them work, that's what makes their relationship different.

.

.

Right after their second date, dinner and a Broadway show this time, they head back to Sebastian's apartment, where he straddles Sebastian on the couch, kissing him deeply and Sebastian moans into his mouth, one hand wandering up under his shirt, the other pulling his groin tighter into his lap. He wants to respect a certain pace to their relationship, but everything so far has been upside down and he wants Sebastian so badly, so he takes his chance, and Sebastian only encourages him.

Shirts are peeled off and Sebastian slides sideways down the couch until he's lying on his back, spread out long beneath him. They're in no hurry so he takes time to explore Sebastian's body and Sebastian lets him, every beauty spot tended to, even the ones on his back once they make it to the bedroom; every curve of every muscle outlined by his tongue or fingers or both. Sebastian smells so good, a warm heady scent with only the slightest hint of cologne, and he almost can't believe he missed this before.

But last time they were naked together they were also drunk and he didn't have the active brain cells to revel in this, the way that Sebastian's body tenses when his breath ghosts over his cock, the pull of Sebastian's fingers in his hair, the throaty moans and sighs, the way his voice breaks when he tells him to ease off because they're not done yet, not even close.

He lies down on his side to face Sebastian, and they sink into a kiss, tongues slow caresses, lips sucking. His hands roam down Sebastian's chest, around to his back, fingers digging into skin. Sebastian grabs his leg right above the knee and pulls, draping it around his waist while he reaches down between them and fists their cocks together, the slick slide of them moving in his hand a maddening sensation that starts the heat tingling at the bottom of his spine.

Sebastian teases a few fingers down his crack, circling around his hole. He gasps and releases Sebastian's lips, reaching back frantically for the bottle of lube tossed on the bed earlier. Sebastian fingers his ass open and he keeps jerking them both off and they never lose track of each other's lips, whether it's for a whispered "You feel so good" or "Don't stop, please, don't stop" or a deep searing kiss that leaves them breathless.

"Ride me," Sebastian says, voice a low rumble, more a plea than a command, and before he knows it he's on top of Sebastian again, rolling on a condom, sinking down on his cock and Sebastian clasping his hands around his hips in desperation.

Sebastian leaves him a complete mess all over again, the watchful eyes never leaving him teasing the edge of self-consciousness, the hands molding at his skin tight, the fist stroking his cock in rhythm with his movements. It's even better than before because now he's not desperately hoping to sever himself from a dark emotion, he's surrendering to something new and exciting with a boy he really likes and–

Sebastian comes hard with a long strung out groan, eyes closing as he thrashes under him, his abdomen minutely tensing with every shudder flitting through his groin and somewhere in the mess of things he whispers his name. Sebastian's fist twists around his cock, working its way up to the head again, and he orgasms too, his come staining Sebastian's perfect skin.

He keels over onto Sebastian's chest, breathing labored.

Sebastian cards his fingers through his hair. "You're flawless, Blaine," he says, the word echoing somewhere in their past. "Flawless."

"Not–" he breathes, "so bad yourself."

Sebastian chuckles, his chest puffing out. He can feel Sebastian's heart beating against his.

It won't always be like this–as much as they both appreciate romance, long lazy mornings spent cuddling, drifting in and out of sleep, hot kisses followed by making love slowly, sometimes they'll spend entire days off in bed, going at each other hard.

They'll have breakfast together, inside or at the coffee shop around the corner, then come back and focus on work for a bit. He'll limit his schoolwork to reading and highlighting, glance up from his pages to catch Sebastian's eye, finally caving until they're ripping each other's clothes off in the bedroom, blow each other or jerk the other off, one of them always watching closely, followed by desperately hard touches.

Moments will pass where they catch their breath and gather themselves together, Sebastian never far away, and then they'll start all over again, pushing, pulling, teeth grazing over skin. The hours will blur together, the world continuing to spin around their special bubble in time.

He'll be sore for days and every time he sits down for another class he'll feel it, nursing an involuntary smile because those days aren't their be-all end-all, but they're ridiculously indulgent and bodacious and it's their little secret.

"Baby, you're– God," he'll breathe, coming down from his fourth orgasm and his body wrecked, ass fucked raw and his voice gone, his skin not his own, fire crawling beneath the surface.

"I'm what?" Sebastian chuckles, and pulls him closer.

"Hmpff–" he hums into Sebastian's chest, words out of reach. All he'll know during those days is Sebastian, and the rest of the world doesn't matter.

Sebastian rakes a hand through his curls. "You're so eloquent after an orgasm."

He twists his face into the crook of Sebastian's neck, the movements of his body beyond his control. "You drive me crazy," he whispers, pressing a kiss to Sebastian's skin, his neck, his jaw, anywhere he can reach.

"Good," Sebastian will say, and draw him in for another kiss.

.

.

It's nine months before they decide to move in together, nine months before his landlord randomly mentions his lease will be up in three months as he and Sebastian are making their way upstairs with some take-out. He passes the comment off with a gentle "I know, thanks, Mr Jannick", and follows behind Sebastian.

They make their way into the kitchen and grab some plates together before there's any sound.

"Why don't we move in together?" Sebastian asks.

"I don't know, why don't we?" he answers unaware, huffing a laugh, because they haven't talked about it and he's almost certain Sebastian only asks because his landlord happened to bring it up. But then the silence drags on and he's forced to look up at his boyfriend, staring at him a bit too smug.

Sebastian's being serious.

He straightens his shoulders. "Are we–ready for that?" he asks tentatively.

Sebastian takes a step closer. "I don't know, are we?"

He chuckles.

"We're practically living together already," Sebastian says, and it's true, he can't remember the last time he slept in an empty bed, hasn't woken up to Sebastian somewhere closeby. He could live in that moment in the morning when he wakes up, and he slowly becomes aware that he's not alone, because he'll hear Sebastian's shallow breathing, or feel him wound around him, see him lying next to him.

His cheeks burn at the thought, a painful sensation of guilt stabbing at him because he's had this conversation with someone else before and Sebastian hasn't, not like this anyway. It hadn't been too soon with Eli, not in his mind, and it's definitely not too soon now. He'd enjoyed his space and privacy, but carving out a new one with Sebastian sounds like heaven.

He reaches his arms around Sebastian's neck and stares up at him. "Mr Smythe." He smiles. "You want to live with me?"

Sebastian grins, arms winding around his waist. "I do, Mr Anderson."

While they wait for his lease to run out they go apartment hunting. They both have their own set of demands: Sebastian wants a space to park his car (which will become their car), he'd like a bathroom with a bath and shower, Sebastian wants a king-size bed, he wants room for a washer and dryer, and they'd both like the apartment to be at a reasonable distance from their workplaces.

The first three locations get rejected immediately, one lacks space, the other lacks a shower, the third lacks pretty much everything. The fourth goes on the list, lacking Sebastian's requested parking space, but there's a balcony with a killer view so Sebastian's willing to make the sacrifice.

The fifth, well, the fifth meets Sebastian's approval the moment they set foot in it. It's close to 1300 square feet in total, and their footsteps resound hollow on the floorboards, their voices echoing in the vacant space.

"It's perfect." Sebastian smiles, not even having checked the bedroom to see if it would fit his king-size bed.

"This place is way too big for us," he says. "We don't need a second room."

"Nonsense." Sebastian turns around. "You need a quiet place to study, and I need one to work."

He'd never even stopped to consider an office space until Sebastian mentions it, but he can't shake the faint feel of recognition this place gives him. It's not that it isn't a gorgeous apartment within their price range, but it reminds him of another one he helped clear out, one he was_ forced_ to clear out.

"But it feels so–"

"Don't," Sebastian hushes him with one word,_ another_ word instead of the one he was going to say: empty.

Sebastian wraps his arms around him from behind and makes him face the living room. "Just use your imagination," he says, lips at his ear, and points to his right. That's where the television will go, Sebastian says, right on top of a stylish commode that will house the DVD player.

They'll get a big couch, one they can curl up on together, maybe add a smaller settee for one to finish the ensemble, and they should probably get a rug to protect the floor on that half of the room. Above the TV they'll hang some pictures framing their silly faces, a collage maybe, depending on their combined tastes.

To the left of the room they'll add a dining table that could easily seat six people, eight if they push it, so they can have their friends over for dinner, or their families during the holidays. There'll be a bookcase against the wall for books, DVDs and CDs, small ornaments or trinkets filling up the spaces that are still free.

"How did you not go into real estate?" He laughs, earning a hot kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

Sebastian doesn't say anything, he pulls him into the spare room and points to where his desk will be, right below the window because natural light is healthier to study in, his desk will form an L-shape with his own and they'll get those Ikea cable gutters to disguise all the wires for computers and desk lamps and other cords. They'll fix one of Adam's portraits to the far wall, or maybe a few smaller ones together, and their schedules can go on the corkboard they attach to the opposite wall, so they can always know about each other's plans.

Sebastian adds they can even plant a pull-out sofa right behind the door if anyone ever has to stay over.

"Should I describe the bedroom too or is your imagination rich enough for that?" Sebastian asks, dragging him back into the living room.

He laughs. "I got that covered."

"What do you say?"

He looks up at Sebastian and feels his knees tremble, the weight of commitment, unwarranted fear and love almost crushing him. He wants this with Sebastian so much, and he already knows that what they have is unlike anything he's had before.

He stalks a step closer to Sebastian and pushes a chaste kiss to his lips, revelling in the way that Sebastian's eyes are shining.

"It sounds like home," he says.

.

.

The car drive home feels like the longest of his life. He focuses on anything but Sebastian, his hands knitted together in his lap, the buildings cruising by behind the window, anything but the unease that has seeped its way into his bones. He sits absolutely still, afraid that moving might break the dam, open the floodgates to another argument, another fight that'll momentarily shake the foundations of their relationship.

Sebastian parks the car and a silence falls over them that's underlain with the tension of what's coming.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, Sebastian doing the same.

"Blaine–" Sebastian says, but he's making his way up to the front door before Sebastian manages to say more. He pushes through the door and climbs the stairs, not bothering to check if Sebastian has followed him inside.

He can't believe this happened again, his trust in his own boyfriend knocked off-kilter. Why does Sebastian keep doing this to them?

"Are you really gonna be like this?" Sebastian asks, his keys hitting the hallway commode in a rattle.

He hates that it sounds like an accusation that he's acting ridiculous or that his feelings are unwarranted. He whirls around, anger informing his movements, heartbreak laced into his tone. "Why can't you just be with me?" he asks, voice breaking before he hits the last syllable.

"I am with you, Blaine," Sebastian answers immediately and takes a step closer. "I'm right here." Sebastian reaches out a hand but he moves a step back. "Baby, come on, it was just one dance."

He doesn't look up to meet Sebastian's eye. "With another guy," he says and sees the scene play out in front of his eyes all over again, another guy approaching Sebastian on the dance floor, where he'd been dancing on his own for a while, sneaking glances at him every now and then. And he'd smiled because Sebastian was trying to seduce him onto the dance floor, but he'd brought Adam and some of his school friends and it wouldn't have been polite to leave them alone.

"You were busy setting up Adam with one of your teacher friends." Sebastian stays in place, his voice calm and composed as if nothing happened at all, as if he hadn't done anything wrong. _Had he?_ he wonders, because Sebastian has this way with people and even after all this time he can't distinguish the line between making conversation and flirting. "I asked you first," Sebastian adds.

It seems like an argument a petulant teenager would make, swinging the argument around so that the blame's resting squarely on his shoulders now.

"Why do you always do this?" he asks. "Why do you always make me into the bad guy?"

"I don't," Sebastian huffs, clearly surprised by the course this evening has taken. "Babe, I was just trying to have a good time."

"Yeah," he breathes and looks down, making a move for the bedroom. "Well, I'm glad one of us did."

"Blaine–" Sebastian says, but he doesn't wait to listen to Sebastian's next argument. "Blaine, stop!" Sebastian grabs him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. He takes a deep breath and faces his boyfriend, who puts his arms on his shoulders, kneading at his skin. "I'm not the bad guy either. I'm yours," Sebastian says, a fear in his eyes he sees every time they fight like this, a fear he's sure is reflected in his.

"Sometimes I'm not sure that's true." He averts his eyes. As soon as the other guy had joined Sebastian on the dance floor, their hips moving together, all his attention had been diverted to the stranger. He didn't think it could be possible to feel alone surrounded by so many people.

"How would you feel if I danced with Eli?"

Sebastian's hands drop from his shoulders before he can realize he's said the wrong thing; he doesn't know why he still uses the Eli card after all this time, after two years, because Eli never had any place between them and didn't matter.

And Sebastian responds the only way he can now, continuing their argument, pointing out how ridiculous he's being.

"You're acting like I gave the guy a lap dance," Sebastian says. "I didn't touch him."

"You know what, forget it." He sighs. "I'm being unreasonable."

What's the point in having this conversation over and over again if it only results in the same thing? He'll continue being jealous and locking his feelings away, and Sebastian will continue to flirt because he'll stop mentioning how much it hurts him. It's a dangerous spiral that could destroy the most solid relationship, but here they are again anyway.

"You could have stopped me," Sebastian says.

He shakes his head and turns around, heading for the bedroom.

"You could've joined me!" he hears Sebastian call behind him, but he slams the door shut behind him, his skin crawling with anger. He's angry at himself for letting this get to him, he doesn't consider jealousy to be a very attractive emotion in anyone, least of all himself.

He doesn't have ownership over Sebastian and–_and that's it_. He doesn't own his boyfriend, Sebastian had merely taken up a place in his life and in his heart but that didn't mean he got to tell him what to do. And he can't expect Sebastian to only ever dance with him for the rest of his life.

It's so stupid, this argument they keep having, _he_ keeps having, because his insecurities aren't Sebastian's. He gets jealous, worried that someone more interesting will come by and steal Sebastian right from under his nose, maybe someone less serious and less prone to deep commitment. And even though Sebastian's only said it once, sometimes in his loneliest moments (it's hard to believe but Sebastian has them), Sebastian worries that he's not good enough for him.

The bedroom door creaks open, Sebastian the first to give in this time.

"For the record, I'd be insanely jealous," Sebastian answers his last question. He's not sure he'd ever want to see Sebastian jealous, however disgustingly hot it might be. "I'd probably punch him and refuse to talk to you."

He turns his head to look at his boyfriend, hands on his hips, most of his fighting spirit gone. "I'd call you unreasonable."

Sebastian takes a tentative step closer, his tone calm again. "I'd point out he's your ex and he broke your heart."

He draws in a steady breath. Sebastian was the first to make a move, but that didn't mean he couldn't give him some leeway. He doesn't want to fight. "And I'd get mushy and say I never would've met you if he hadn't."

"I'd make fun of you for being so sentimental."

He smiles softly, body turning towards Sebastian as well. "You'd forgive me."

"Yeah?" Sebastian raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Why's that?"

"Because you love me." He reaches his hands for Sebastian's chest.

"I do," Sebastian says, hands cupping his face. "I really do."

Sebastian presses a kiss to his forehead and hugs his arms around him, holding him tight to his chest.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says.

"Me too."

They'll get better at it, communicating their feelings, it's something they'll both have to learn because they're not willing to let each other go. Rachel will tell him that's how it goes, love isn't enough, every relationship needs its fine-tuning and in some areas that won't change–for her and Jesse it's their passion for performing, turning them both into divas from time to time and making it impossible to live together. But they tough it out, dial each other back when necessary, because they love each other.

He'll still get jealous, because he doesn't understand how he's meant to give Sebastian the trust he's granted in return. That's not how it works, is it? But if there's one thing he's absolutely sure about it's that he loves Sebastian, every little thing, and if he's truly honest that also includes Sebastian's less attractive features, because they're part of him and he's not about to stifle his boyfriend's personality because of his own anxiety.

.

.

He wakes up to the smell of stale coffee and someone nudging at his shoulder. His neck hurts and his desk is pressing into his stomach, his computer blinking in sleep mode. "Wake up, sleepy," Sebastian whispers in his ear, palm flat at his back.

"What time is it?" he asks, lifting his head, a page from his notebook sticking to his cheek and a sudden panic starts in him. Did he miss it? Is he going to be late for his final? His thoughts race and his quickening heartbeat wakes him up, until he realizes no, wait, he had an entire day left to study. What's he doing at his desk?

"It's 2am," Sebastian answers. He looks up through sleep-addled eyes to see Sebastian still wearing his work suit; he probably went out for a drink to unwind.

"So much for getting some sleep," Sebastian adds.

He rubs at his eyes, sore from reading all day. "I have to pass this class."

"And you will," Sebastian assures him, switching off his desk lamp. "But you need to be able to take the exam." Sebastian grabs him by the shoulders to get him upright. He sways on his feet, too tired to stand, so he's grateful that Sebastian takes such a firm hold of him. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

Sebastian walks him to the bedroom, where he flops down on the bed, already drifting off into sleep again. He feels Sebastian undo his pants and tug it down his hips, putting some socks on his feet because he knows he can't sleep with cold feet. Somehow Sebastian manages to navigate him under the sheets and joins him in the bed a few minutes later, changed out of his own clothes. Sebastian cuddles up close behind him, one arm around his waist.

"I love you," he hums.

Sebastian plants a kiss behind his ear. "Love you too."

He sleeps like a rock.

Sebastian's alarm blares at six in the morning, and he's surprised to find Sebastian's side of the bed empty already, Sebastian's sleep clothes at the end of the bed. He thinks maybe Sebastian went out for a run, but it's been a while since he took the time to.

He stretches out long, his back cracking, and yawns. Four hours of sleep isn't a cure for the fatigue that has been his companion for the past few weeks, but the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen might be. He quickly dresses in some slacks and a hoodie and finds Sebastian in the kitchen.

"Coffee for my early riser," Sebastian announces, in the process of pouring his standard to-go morning coffee.

He hums his approval and buries his face in Sebastian's chest, warm and comforting.

"Please remind me why I decided to go back to school?" he whines, even though it's his last year and he'll be graduating soon, but these finals have been kicking his ass. He's been pushing himself for the past three weeks, running on a few hours of sleep every night, and it's starting to take its toll. At least there are only a few more days to go.

Sebastian's kisses his hair, rubbing soothing circles down his back. He probably would've lost his mind weeks ago if it weren't for Sebastian, he'd been supportive every step of the way, hadn't minded him reciting his presentations out loud in the middle of the night or his sleep-deprived stress rants during dinner. He'd been nothing but patient and encouraging, and it's a thing that won't change.

"To become an inspiration to the misguided youth of America," Sebastian answers.

"Right." He tips his head back to smile up at Sebastian, reluctant to let him go just yet. "Thanks."

Sebastian leans in and brushes his lips over his, pressing a kiss to his upper lip. He reaches around Sebastian's hips, pulling him closer, lips parting to allow Sebastian's tongue entrance to his mouth, sinking into a deep kiss that tastes like minty toothpaste.

"When these finals are over I'm going to have my filthy way with you, killer," Sebastian speaks against his lips, thumbs caressing his jawline.

He nods, eyes still closed. "Hmm, and I'll happily let you." He pulls back, releasing Sebastian. When this is over he's going to sleep for days and take whatever Sebastian does to him in between. "You go fight social injustice now," he says, reaching to grab Sebastian's travel mug from the kitchen counter.

"I'll bring us home some dinner."

"My hero," he says, and yelps when Sebastian slaps his ass.

.

.

He thinks it's the sound of a glass shattering in the sink that wakes him up. His first instinct is to panic and maybe dial 911, but then he hears Sebastian utter a hushed 'Fuck' and he relaxes back into the bed. It's close to midnight, and he thinks Sebastian must have just gotten home; he always takes some time to unwind before coming to bed. He gets up and shimmies into an oversized hoodie, finding his way out of the bedroom with his eyes closed.

"Babe?" he calls, palming over one of his eyes, Sebastian slowly coming into view.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says, arms resting on the kitchen counter, his body tense all over. "I didn't mean to wake you."

He pads over barefoot, rounding the kitchen counter and reaches his arms around Sebastian's waist, drawing circles over his abdomen, his chin coming to rest between Sebastian's shoulder blades. "What's wrong?" he asks, his jaw cracking with a yawn.

Sebastian releases a tired and exasperated sigh. "One of the clerks fucked up a legal document and now this douche we're suing could get away with–"

He puts his cheek flat against Sebastian's back. "Get away with what?"

Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose. "You wouldn't understand."

He straightens up and stares at the back of Sebastian's head. He knows Sebastian isn't trying to be hurtful on purpose, but his words slice through him nonetheless. Sebastian doesn't often talk to him about work, maybe because he thinks it wouldn't interest him but he'd always make an effort to understand.

He pulls at Sebastian's hips, forcing him to turn around. "Then explain it to me," he says, ignoring the dark circles under his boyfriend's eyes yet again–they've been there for a few weeks now, work taking its toll.

"Blaine–"

"Please," he insists, because he knows Sebastian doesn't sleep well or at all when he's stressed.

Sebastian's eyes dig their way into his and he can tell Sebastian understands; he wants to hear this, he shouldn't be the only one who gets to complain about his day in greater detail than 'I've had a bad day'. Something's clearly bothering Sebastian and even though he won't be able to fix it, the least he can do is show his support.

He makes them both a cup of hot cocoa while Sebastian changes into a more comfortable outfit–a t-shirt and some slacks, and soon they're both settled on the couch, his legs draped over Sebastian's lap, Sebastian massaging at his feet.

And Sebastian explains what happened, in words often too difficult for him to understand but he'll slow down and explain in more detail. He's defending this kind loving woman who's suing her husband for child support, but then words like tax evasion and insurance fraud get in the way. What it boils down to is that the guy he's suing has screwed over his wife and children for no reason at all but his own greed. Sebastian feels helpless and frustrated, especially after the administrative mistake, and it's getting to him more than other cases.

Sebastian takes a deep breath, finishing his cocoa and relaxes into the couch, his head thrown back, some of the weight clearly lifted.

"We should take a vacation," he suggests. "After your case is done."

"There'll be another one waiting," Sebastian says, staring up at the ceiling.

"You're entitled to a vacation," he says. "I don't want to see you burn out."

Sebastian shifts his head sideways to look at him, one hand kneading at his thigh.

"We can head to LA," he says. "Soak up some sun. Sleep on Cooper's couch."

He's kidding, of course, Cooper has an achingly small guest bedroom that would suit them fine, but it gets a smile out of Sebastian and that's more than he was hoping for.

In the end it still takes some convincing, Sebastian's dedicated to his work and good at it to boot, so the firm's reluctant to let him go, even for a short period of time. But as much as he's dedicated to his own work, he has school vacations, some of which he'd actually like to spend with his boyfriend available to him 24/7. For obvious reasons.

The answer comes when Cooper extends an invitation to visit him because his commercial is on hiatus, and he's pretty insistent. He hasn't had the chance to properly visit his brother for more than a few days before, so it's the perfect opportunity to not only see his brother, but for Sebastian to recharge for a while.

And it works, Sebastian frustrates him by taking the occasional call from work, but for the most part they manage to leave their New York life behind, doing touristy things together, taking out Sarah's and Cooper's dog Yoda out for long walks at night, having lazy mornings in until Sarah sends in Yoda to lick their toes.

"You never thanked me by the way," Cooper says, helping him set the table while Sebastian helps Sarah in the kitchen.

"What for?" he asks, but Cooper's head makes a very suggestive nod towards the kitchen when they hear Sebastian laughing. He chuckles. "I'm sorry," he says. "Thank you for blackmailing me out of a hospital bed and letting me sleep on your couch so that I could meet my future boyfriend when I was at the lowest point in my life."

Cooper frowns to himself rather confused but with the slightest hint of pride and they both decide to drop it. He's grateful for a lot of things in his life, like his family and his friends, his crazy brother and definitely Sebastian, but he thinks he should be far more grateful Sebastian saw something worth giving a shot while he was heartbroken.

It's a silly thing to think, he saw as much in Sebastian as Sebastian saw in him, someone different than the boys who broke their hearts, and deep down he thinks he does owe his brother.

"I never thanked you for her," Cooper's voice shakes him from his thoughts. He looks up to find his brother's eyes shining and his heart clenches; as hopeless as he once believed them to be in love, they both hit the jackpot. "If you hadn't said what you said we wouldn't be here today."

He smiles. "What are brothers for?"

"Come here." Cooper says and closes the distance between them, throwing his arms around his shoulders. "I love you, squirt."

"Don't–call me that." He sighs a laugh, having long since accepted that it's a nickname he'll never shake. "Love you too, Coop."

In the early evenings all four of them sit out on the terrace, have a glass of wine while playing silly board games, and spend the better part of two hours laughing until their jaws hurt and their eyes are watery. There's a part of him that's sad Cooper lives so far away now, because their bond has greatly improved and he could stand to see his brother more often. But mostly he's grateful for the moments they do get.

It turns out that LA is also one fine excuse for Sebastian to walk around half-naked most of the time, especially when they're all hanging out on the beach, Sebastian frisbeeing with Sarah or taking a swim. He's positioned himself on a towel in the sun, soaking up heat and sunshine; he has some books with him but most of the time he ends up talking to Sarah or ogling his boyfriend while he runs past in his shorts, showing off his long legs and lean upper body.

Sebastian plunks down in the sand next to him. "Come on, killer, the water's great," he says, settling on his stomach. "You are not spending the entire week lying around on a beach."

He leans up on his elbows. "Why not?" he asks, but instead of answering Sebastian slides his sunglasses up into his hair and leans in for a kiss.

"Get up," Sebastian says, one of his hands sliding down his abdomen, settling at his side.

"No," he answers resolutely.

Sebastian pinches his side hard.

"Stop!" he squeals, but Sebastian pinches him again, his other hand joining in. "Stoppp!" he laughs his complaints, but has to endure several more moments of tickle torture before Sebastian relents.

He lies down on his back, Sebastian settling pliant against his side. "Why can't I have a lazy vacation?" he pouts.

"Not the pouting," Sebastian pleads. "You know it's my kryptonite."

He juts out his bottom lip and pouts some more. "Why, baby, why can't I be lazy?" he asks, fully intent on milking this until it's dry, but then Sebastian's lips are on his again, and he's pulling him in tighter.

"I'm really glad we did this," Sebastian whispers.

.

.

"We're not getting a dog," he says, pulling the covers back on the bed, tossing one of the excess pillows aside.

"_Why no'_?" Sebastian's words come out muddled from the next room because he's brushing his teeth.

"Because I'd be the one taking care of it!" he calls, louder than he needs to, but he's not up for this discussion right now. His mind is somewhere else and he doesn't know why Sebastian picked this particular day raise the subject. He'd been outlining reasons to get a dog all day and he'd decidedly heard enough. He wants to sleep so tomorrow can come fast and he can have these job interviews over with.

Sebastian spits in the sink, the water running for a few moments, before he makes his way into their bedroom. He's dressed only in his slacks, an almost sordid sight for sore eyes, and he idly wonders if Sebastian would be willing to distract him for a while.

"You sound like your mother."

He sighs. "Well, maybe my mother was right."

Sebastian looks at him and frowns, and he averts his eyes. "Baby," comes Sebastian's inevitable response. Sebastian moves to stand behind him, his chest connecting with his back. "Come on, baby," Sebastian says. "What's wrong?"

He doesn't want to say what's wrong. Sebastian should know.

"You're too stressed about these interviews," Sebastian says, his hands landing on his shoulders. He smiles, feeling guilty that he underestimates his boyfriend's perception. "You have the grades. You have amazing references. You'll do great."

Sebastian starts rubbing at his shoulders, expertly working out the knots his stress imbued him with. He throws his head back, lost in the steady push and pull of Sebastian's fingers.

"Let me make it better," Sebastian whispers in his ear, one of his hands moving down his back, sneaking around his hip, fingers teasing at the waistband of his slacks.

"Yes," he breathes, closing his eyes, hands reaching back around Sebastian's ass.

Sebastian palms over his crotch, working him in slow circles until he's hard, before slipping a hand inside his pants, fingers closing around his hard-on. He moans obscenely loud, because this is exactly what he needs, his mind blank, focused on anything but his responsibilities.

"That's it, baby," Sebastian says, thumb circling around the head of his cock before stroking down his length long and hard, adding more pressure, easing off again, a dizzying rhythm he goes high on. He feels Sebastian going hard against him, his cock settling in the crack of his ass, rutting against him shallowly.

He's all whimpers and moans, breath hitching at the back of his throat while a steady pressure builds at the base of his spine, his cock twitching in Sebastian's hand, his own hands digging into Sebastian's ass.

"Just like that," Sebastian says. "Just let go."

"_Baby_," he moans, back arching, fucking himself twice in Sebastian's tight grip before he loses it, coming in long spurts all over Sebastian's hand.

"It's okay." Sebastian works him through it until he becomes too sensitive. He leans back into the body behind him. "I've got you," he says, tugging him back in his slacks with his other hand.

Sebastian kisses his temple, his jaw, down his neck, lips lingering at that special spot behind his ear.

His knees go jelly and he lies face down on the bed, body melting relaxed and sated into the mattress. He hears Sebastian rifle through the bedside drawer for a tissue.

"Baby?" he mumbles against the sheets.

"Hmm?" Sebastian responds, the bed dipping to his left as he lies down beside him.

"We can get a dog if you want one."

Sebastian chuckles, a hand drawing down his back. "Let's discuss that when you're slightly more conscious again."

He forces an eye open, feeling Sebastian's hard-on press into his thigh. "Do you want me to–" He tries to move his hand, but he's so comfortable right now that he's reluctant to move at all.

And Sebastian seems to pick up on it. "No, I'm good," he says. "I know this ass is mine anyway." Sebastian slides his hand down the swell of his ass and places a lingering kiss at the small of his back, making his spine tingle.

.

.

They get a dog three months later, a golden retriever pup they name Misha. It happens in one of his lonelier moments, Sebastian calls him from work saying he won't make it home for dinner for the third time that week and he finds himself sitting alone at the dinner table, not in an empty apartment, but alone nonetheless, and he figures it couldn't hurt to have someone around that's completely dependent on his care.

It's not a substitute for Sebastian, but it helps him through his loneliest moments.

He never could have guessed that walking said dog late one night would put him face to face with Eli.

Misha runs right up to him, pawing at his legs and it's only when he's turned around that he recognizes his ex-boyfriend. It's been nearly four years and the years haven't been kind to Eli, his hair's shorter, his eyes weary, as if he hasn't slept properly for a long time. But he thinks that's because of his job.

"How've you been?" he asks, while Eli pets Misha on the head.

"Good," Eli answers, standing up straight, digging his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, really good."

"That's–good." He nods, at a complete loss of words. "Adam told me you went into cardiology?" he asks, anything to throw off this awkward feeling that he's seeing a friend who's been travelling for a few years and he realizes he's been neglecting him. But Eli's the one who backed away.

"My dad wasn't happy about it," Eli says. "But it's where my heart is."

He chuckles, remembering a time when laughing at Eli's jokes didn't fill him with guilt. "You always had the most terrible jokes."

Eli smiles. "And yet I always got you to laugh at them."

He tries to stifle another smile, but fails, and guilt rips through him twice-fold. What would Sebastian think?

"Congratulations on graduating by the way," Eli says. He blinks up, but Eli's staring down at his feet. He still reads Eli easily, he knows what's coming. "I know I wasn't very supportive of–"

He knows Eli won't say, won't apologize outright, but they're both four years older and the years have matured them. He's happy Eli's learned this about himself; he hopes he's able to be more supportive of his current partner's dreams.

"Anyway, congratulations." Eli shrugs.

"Thanks."

"I guess I'll–see you around?" Eli asks, a hint of hope in his eyes.

He nods. "Maybe."

When he tells Sebastian about it later he can't read his expression–maybe it's hurt but it could as well be indifference. There was a time when he thought part of him would always love Eli, but it's been four years and he's hardly thought about him at all.

"It was weird," he says, grabbing a beer from the fridge and making his back into the living room. Sebastian's at the dinner table going over some files. He's taken up the habit of bringing some of his work home with him, instead of working late at the office. "It felt like another life."

He puts the beer down in front of Sebastian, but he doesn't look up.

"I'm–not going to see him," he adds tentatively.

Sebastian looks up and releases a breath, pulling him closer by the waist. "It's fine if you do," he says. "I trust you."

He smiles and kisses Sebastian's hair, leaving him to his work; he still has term papers to grade by tomorrow. But as he sits down behind his desk he tries to put himself in Sebastian's shoes, tries to conjure up how he would feel if Sebastian would meet up with one of his exes. He decides he'd get jealous, maybe even a little angry that Sebastian didn't consider his feelings. So he won't see Eli.

Things are weird between them for a few days, but it blows over, because he has no intention of meeting with Eli on purpose if it's going to hurt Sebastian. He has no need for Eli in his life, so he's not going to force anything either.

.

.

When their fourth anniversary comes around he doesn't think about Eli or how it could all fall apart, he'd learned from his mistakes and Sebastian wasn't Eli, and in any case, it's hard to focus on much of anything when Sebastian goes down on one knee in the middle of the restaurant, every eye in the room turning to them.

"Honey, what are you doing?" he asks, cheeks burning, heart beating faster, and _what an incredibly stupid question to ask_.

Sebastian grins wide and he's mesmerized, his heart skipping a beat once Sebastian unearths a small box from his jacket, a box that can only hold one thing. He clasps a hand over his mouth to stop from crying, only his eyes do fill up with tears so that his boyfriend becomes blurry around the edges.

This is _everything_.

The box opens in Sebastian's hands, revealing a bright sterling ring.

"Will you marry me, Blaine Anderson?" Sebastian asks.

And he says yes because the six words hold all the meaning in the world.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

#

**author's notes:** Thank you so much for everyone who has commented on this story, left me kudos or showed support in any other way :) your reaction to this has been overwhelming and it has me psyched to keep writing for this pairing for much much longer!

Special thanks to **xsaturated **for beta-reading and brainstorming :))


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